Grand Prix Wizard
by Quidditchref
Summary: There is no such thing as fast enough for James Sirius Potter. Flying on a broom isn't enough when there's a world of Formula One to conquer, and a mysterious wizard to show him how. James, Harry, Arthur, Rose, Scorp, Draco, Hermione, Ron, OCs
1. Chapter 1, Prologue

PROLOGUE

There was no such thing as "fast enough". James Sirius Potter had always been in love with speed. From the moment he was born, whether running through the house or flying on his tiny broom, he could never go fast enough. The son of two of the fastest flying professional Quidditch players in the magical world, he came by his love of speed naturally. But it was how he turned his obsession with going fast into his life's work that amazed his family, his friends, and every other witch and wizard in the world.

As it was, James was famous at birth. The first son of Harry Potter, the Ministry Auror who had defeated the greatest evil wizard of the 20th Century as a teenager, Jimmy's baby pictures had been on the front page of the "Daily Prophet" and every other magical tabloid. Only the "Quibbler", owned and edited by a family friend, had ever published correct information about James, his father, and his mother Ginny, who was the most popular female Chaser in the World Quidditch League.

It also helped that his grandfather on his mother's side, Arthur Weasley, had a lifelong fascination with muggle technology and machines. Indeed, Arthur felt his greatest accomplishment had been helping his son-in-law dismantle and rebuild a motorcycle that had been left to Harry by his Godfather, Sirius Black. And, yes, Jimmy's middle name was homage to that Sirius…just another link to a person in love with going fast. Arthur's garage was full of muggle posters of fast flying airplanes and mysterious racing machinery.

Fortunately for Arthur, if not for the Potter family looking to slow James down, his daughter-in-law Hermione Weasley, married to his youngest son, had been born to muggle parents and raised in the non-magical world for much of her life. She had attended muggle primary schools, technical schools, and the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where she had met her husband, and Harry Potter. Potter, Hermione, and Ron Weasley had formed the famous "Golden Trio", led the forces of the light in the last great wizard war, and overcome the dark army known as Death Eaters. Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley was Ron's sister, Arthur's only daughter, Harry Potter's wife, and the mother of James.

Thus it wasn't long after Jimmy could walk before Arthur was tinkering with all sorts of scooters, wagons and carts powered by various muggle devices, some of which were called "motors" or "engines". Hermione supplied the research and theory; Arthur did the work, and Jimmy had the fastest racing karts ever seen.

It was also Arthur who insisted on calling the boy Jimmy, instead of James. This also grew out of his fascination with automobile racing. On his workshop wall was an old poster showing a famous dark green single-seat racing automobile. This car was known as a "Lotus", and it had been built in England by a muggle named Colin Chapman. Arthur had discovered that Chapman had named his racing cars after his wife's nickname, "Lotus Blossom". Hazel Chapman was a famous witch, who held a seat in the Wizengamot. In this photo, the Lotus was being driven by a Scot named Jimmy Clark, and it was widely held in the wizard world that Clark was so good, he must have also been a wizard. Arthur worshiped Clark's memory, and so to him, James was always Jimmy.

Racing automobiles don't run on fuel; they run on money. Fortunately for Jimmy Potter, money was never a major problem. His doting father was heir to a family fortune of his own, and had been left the huge Black family inheritance by his Godfather. His wife had received one of the largest professional Quidditch contracts ever offered, and Harry himself had been paid nearly as much. His affairs were managed by his brother-in-law, Bill Weasley, who had risen to a top position at the wizard bank.

The Weasley family, while pureblood, had at one time been one of the poorer magical families, but had prospered through their relationship with Harry and Hermione. Harry, Ron and Hermione had received Class One Order of Merlin awards, and lifetime pensions from the Ministry. Harry had insisted on the Weasleys taking a share of his fortune for their help during the war.

Hermione came from a relatively well-off professional muggle family, and had become a well-paid healer. Ron had also played professional Quidditch, and his brother George had prospered in a magical joke shop business that had been financed originally by Harry. Arthur had retired from the Ministry of Magic on a rather large war veteran's pension, and son Percy had become the Minister of Magic.

The bottom line was that there were plenty of Galleons stored away at Gringotts Bank to support just about anything a Potter or Weasley wanted to do. Neither family had been overly generous, or allowed their children to become spoiled. They had all been required to attend a mix of muggle and magical schools, and their parents deeply believed in the philosophy that their children should blend the best of both worlds.

The family wealth made it possible for Jimmy to always have the best racing equipment his grandfather could buy or put together himself. Arthur's curiosity was never satisfied, so he was always looking for something to make Jimmy's "karts" faster and better. Originally, he built a test track out behind the Burrow, the Weasley family home. They installed a challenging half-mile road course surrounding the Quidditch field that Harry's generation had used for training when they were kids. Eventually, however, Harry built a 2.5-mile private circuit, as well as full-size Quidditch pitch, on the grounds of the family compound.

With a great backyard mechanic and his own testing and training track available, it should be no surprise that Jimmy Potter became very competitive in the English youth shifter kart racing series, YSKART (pronounced Wise-Cart). In fact, by the time he went to Hogwarts in 2016 at age eleven, he virtually dominated the series. Although his parents insisted that he finish school, his summers were filled with racing. By the time he was 17 and in his sixth year at the school, Jimmy had graduated into the European Formula 3 racing series, often racing in front of the most powerful team managers in the sport.

After graduation from Hogwarts, his parents insisted that Jimmy complete two years of muggle university in a marketing and public relations course of study. During their own pro Quidditch careers, Harry and Ginny had often complained that they had not been trained well enough in the art of dealing with sponsors and the media. As soon as Harry realized that Jimmy had true talent, he wanted to make sure his son approached his career as professionally as possible. By the time he had moved on to the International Grand Prix 2 Series, he was a handsome, well-polished and extremely urbane 21-year-old.


	2. Chapter 2, The Best Offer

CHAPTER ONE: THE BEST OFFER

Jimmy Potter stood between his father and grandfather in the Grand Prix 2 paddock after the Japanese round, staring down at the tires on his Advanced Vehicle Systems Proton 3. It had been an extremely close, competitive race, and it had been made more difficult by the fact that his left front tire had blistered three laps from the end. Ever since the banked portion of the Fuji Speedway had been updated in 2023, navigating the circuit placed tremendous forces on left front tires; not only was there the banking to contend with, but the long right hand sweeper leading onto the main straight was the most important corner on the track.

Jimmy had barely been able to hold his lead until the end. A blistered tire loses some of its grip because it reduces the contact patch with the road. A blistered tire also runs hot, which further compromises its ability to hold the road. And of course, a blistered tire has a greater chance of suddenly blowing out at a critical moment.

"I'm pretty sure it would have let go if I hadn't used a mild durability charm on it," Jimmy told Arthur Weasley. "You know I wouldn't do that to cheat, but I'm not going to risk my life on whether or not a tire fails on the banking."

"Don't you worry about it, boy," said Arthur. "We lost two of the greatest drivers in the world to failures like that at Monza. Don't you ever be ashamed of the fact that you can use your ability and training to the fullest!"

"Right," Harry said. "As long as you don't go hurling body binding curses at the other drivers, I don't think anybody's ever going to figure out you sometimes use magic to keep from wrecking."

"Besides, half the competition are wizards," exclaimed Arthur. "The greatest drivers of their generations have been magical people. It's well-known the Schumacher brothers attended Durmstrang."

"And even if there were jokes about their sexual orientation, every girl who's ever been a successful racer went to Beauxbatons," Harry joked.

"Anyway, Henri almost outbraked me going up into the hairpin, but luckily it's a left-hander so I didn't have to be careful. Then I just hung on and prayed as we dashed around the sweeper…he could never get his momentum back after I shut the door on him."

"Well, it was a very cool finish, James," Harry said. "I'm glad your mother wasn't here…Ginny would have broken my hand on the last lap!"

"Does have a strong grip, my daughter!" laughed Arthur.

At that moment, a tall man with a grey beard and wearing a long black coat approached them. "Great drive, Jimmy, absolutely fabulous car control," he said.

"Thanks, Mr. Nickels," Jimmy replied, brushing his longish dark amber hair back from his forehead. He bent over and placed his helmet in the seat of the dark green car. Two of the AVS crewmen began pushing it off in the direction of the transporter.

"Please call me Don, Jimmy. Just two more rounds to go, my young friend. Have AVS said anything to you about their plans for next year?"

"Not really. Dad?"

"I don't think Andy can pull off the move into Grand Prix One," Harry said. "Andy Andrews is a great guy, and AVS has been wonderful to work with, but let's face it…we've been propping him up for two years. Not even my family can support a truly competitive Formula One team."

"And there are your other children as well," Nickels said.

"Right."

"How do you manage all that, Harry? You must go crazy trying to see all three of them in their competitions."

"Ginny and their grandmother are really good about looking after their Quidditch, and James and I see as many matches as we can, right, son?"

"Mum's a whiz at keeping us all organized…sometimes you'd think she was my Aunt Hermione!" Jimmy said.

"Actually, Ginny says Lily has a right good chance of getting an even bigger contract than she had. A real natural flyer, that girl. And Al will definitely get a shot at the World League too. I think he's good enough for anyone, but if no one else will give him a chance, he'll play for our team." Harry and Ron Weasley had bought the Chudley Cannons after they retired, and Ron managed the club for which he had been a lifelong fan and goalkeeper.

"Great. What an extraordinary family you all are, and so kind and good to everyone as well. Well, look. The reason I stopped by. I wondered if the three of you could do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight. I have a private dining room reserved at the hotel," Nickels said. "It will be a business meeting, but please come relaxed and prepared to enjoy lots of sushi and Kobi beef."

The three looked at one another. There was a subtle exchange of information and agreement between them. "Absolutely!" Jimmy said. "We'd be delighted."

"See you around eight, then," Nichols said. "The concierge will be expecting you in the lobby, and will know exactly where to direct you. I'm looking forward to it, mates!"

They returned to the hotel, and Jimmy went through his usual post-race workout. Top racecar drivers are athletes. The sport requires tremendous upper body strength, and the sort of physical endurance expected of cross-country runners, footballers or Quidditch players. Jimmy liked to lift weights for 30 minutes after a race. His physical trainer told him that lifting after the event, when he was already used up and physically tired, was the best way to build additional strength. On non-race days, Jimmy often trained for four hours, with a long running component in his regimen.

After his workout, Jimmy showered, changed, and joined his father and grandfather in the lobby. James, Harry and Arthur were escorted into the private dining room. Don Nickels was already there, sharing cocktails with a beautiful blond woman. She was tall and slim, her hair bobbed short just at the bottom of her ears. Expensive jewelry hung from her lobes, her wrist, and around her neck and fingers. "My wife Penelope," Nickels said.

"Pleasure," said the three guests.

"Please call me Penny," she grinned, as the double meaning began to dawn on them.

"And just how long did it take you to find a Penny Nickels?" Harry asked with a huge smirk.

"Oh, not so long! She pretty well found me in school," Don replied.

Don Nickels was a lanky six-foot-six. His long face was lined and craggy, to the point it almost looked scared. He wore a grey goatee-style beard and mustache surrounding lips that most generally stayed in a non-committal straight line across his face. His grey hair was rather long, and swept back on the sides. At times, it looked like folded wings on the sides of his head. His eyes were blue, sharp and intelligent. He was dressed, as usual, neck to toe in black.

Nickels was a mysterious and shadowy character in the racing world. He was almost certainly a wizard, but would not admit to it. He had simply appeared on the scene one day, and two months later, reappeared with his own team. He said that he came from the United States, and his accent was borderline southwest American. It was said that he had operated a rent-a-ride Formula Atlantic team in the support series for Indianapolis 500 racers.

It was also rumored that he could be a dangerous man. According to at least one legend, Nickels had headed a secret Central Intelligence Agency department in which wizards and witches were used for espionage. While all such information was classified, and no one had ever proved whether this was grounded in fact, it was true that international auto racing provided excellent cover for people who wanted to move about the world. Nickels never confirmed or denied his professional background.

"However, it is true that I had an ancestor deeply involved in the sport," Nickels was telling Arthur and the Potters. "He spelled his name differently, but he was very active in racing in both the US and overseas. He made his money and connections selling tires, here in Japan as it happens. Had an unfortunate run of bad luck in Formula One racing; lost several drivers to freak accidents. Very sad actually. Some of his team stabbed him in the back and stole his company away from him in the end."

"Yes," Arthur said. "I've read a bit about the transformation of Shadow Cars into Arrows in the 1970s. Some wizard named Black Jack Olive, or Martini, or something Italian like that involved, wasn't there?"

"Erm, well close enough," Nickels said, choking back a laugh. "There was an Italian banker who lost his head over the deal. Literally. They found his body along a railway and his head several miles away!

"Anyway, I assume by now you have guessed why I wanted to host you tonight," Nickels continued. "Phantom Cars intends to advance into Formula One next year. Jimmy has won the Formula Ford Festival race, the Monaco and Pau Formula 3 races as well as the championship, and he has won five GP2 races this year. It appears he will be the GP2 champion merely by finishing well in the two remaining races.

"I would like to talk to you about Jimmy becoming our lead driver next season. I think I am actually in a position to offer you a contract that will go a long way towards paying back your investment in James over the years. We have a substantial sponsorship package in place, but I will admit that some of it is contingent upon our signing Jimmy. That gives you some negotiating power I don't usually give up," he said, not looking particularly happy about revealing that information.

"Right. Well, stepping up to GP1 is certainly the next logical move for James," Harry said. "But it has to be the best offer. We've seen some pretty impressive young drivers flame out in Formula One because they took a less than competitive seat. One non-negotiable is that Arthur runs Jimmy's car."

"I already expected that would be the case, and given his record with Jimmy, we wouldn't have it any other way."

"Who are the sponsors?" Jimmy asked. "I'm not willing to endorse just anyone."

"Of course, of course! We have already secured overall team sponsorship from Wizard Products. Wizard will havethe only large logo on the car. Most appropriate, don't you think?

"The cars will be dark green and gold, just like your AVS car. Those happen to be Wizard's main color scheme in their stores. I'm sure you've been in a Wizard store, haven't you?"

"Oh sure! Everyone gets all their muggle electronics and gear from Wizard," Jimmy said. "I'm liking the sound of this more and more as you go along, Don!"

"Arthur, I have a question. Is your grand-daughter Rose still seeing Scorpius Malfoy?"

"Well that's an abrupt turn of direction, Don, but yes, she is. Fact is, they recently became engaged, although I'm not sure how happy Hermione and Ron are about that development."

"Well, I think it's brilliant, and it should hopefully make this next part a little easier to swallow. The one thing I was afraid you might not like about the Wizard Products association was the ownership, given the past history of your families. You do know that WP is owned by Draco Malfoy, don't you?"


	3. Chapter 3, The Silly Season

CHAPTER TWO: SILLY SEASON

"Don," Harry Potter said to team owner Don Nickels, we're honored and flattered that you've thought of us. Obviously, a new team is a bit of a gamble, but then, taking a chance in James is a risk for you as well. Dad, what do you think?"

"I think it's a brilliant opportunity," Arthur Weasley enthused. James Potter was playing with his silverware.

"Obviously, there's still quite a bit to sort out," Nickels warned. We have the money, and we have an engine deal with Voltage. They just clinched the Moto GP bike championship, and are ready to focus on the auto market once again. As you know, Voltage was quite a force to be reckoned with early in the century, but motorcycles were their roots. They've shown me a very promising 10-cylinder, however. And James, I'm sure you know that the new Voltage engines use the cross wizard/muggle technology developed by your Aunt Hermione Weasley.

"We've also got the facility and the staff, although we are currently in Indianapolis. We almost certainly will build or buy a factory in England. I don't think you can run an international motor racing team from America.

"We might be able to help out there," said Harry, with a wink at Arthur. James picked up his napkin, folded it, unfolded it again, and placed it back on his lap.

"We expect to run two cars. I believe the second driver will have a great deal more experience than Jimmy, but not nearly as much success. For several different reasons, I'm hoping to bring over a US driver. He'll be a muggle, but he is from one of the most famous racing families ever. His great grandfather won the World Championship in 1978, and he's been racing so long it's hard to believe he's only 38. His father flamed out in his Formula One shot, so the family has been a little gun shy about trying it again."

"So, now that he has finally broken the family jinx at Indianapolis, they're ready to try Grand Prix racing again, eh?" said Arthur, who would be the one in the room to know who Nickels was talking about. Jimmy reached out both his hands in fists, causing his elbows to pop. He shifted again in his seat.

"Jimmy will blow his doors off," Harry boasted. "Put this boy against anyone in equal cars, and he'll always be faster. He's proved it over and over. And he's great with the sponsors, you know. We probably can bring in the Wheezes and Gringotts both as associates. They've been with us from the start. Jimmy can work his tail off."

"Uh, guys…still in the room," Jimmy said.

"So listen. How does Wizard Products fit into the deal? Do they own the team, or are they just the main sponsor?"

"No, I own the team! That's an absolute. That's just like Arthur running your car; it's not negotiable. I've spoken at length with Draco. He is not even interested in being around. We may never see him at a race."

"Well, that's good," Jimmy said. "I know Dad and Uncle Ron have a nodding acquaintance with him going back to school and the war, but I hear the bloke is bad news. I'd just as soon not have him around."

"The company will be represented, Jimmy. That's why I asked Arthur about your cousin and Scorpius Malfoy. It's my understanding that Draco is putting up the money because Scorpius asked him to, and that the conditions are that you are one of the drivers and he is the corporate program manager," Nickels said. "Would you be OK with that?"

"Yeah. Think so. Scorpius was a year behind me at Hogwarts, but I thought he was a really good kid. Nothing like his old man, and of course, not even a hint of dark stuff like his grandfather was into. He and Rose got together practically on the train to school first year, and haven't been very far apart since. I think we pretty much consider him part of the family by now, don't we Grand?"

"Oh, I think so, son!" Arthur said. "This is sounding better and better all the time, wouldn't you say so Harry?"

"Haven't heard much I don't like, that's for sure. Can't imagine it could hurt to have Rosie and Scorp on the road with James. Now, if it was Al, I'd be concerned!" Everyone at the table roared at this. It was well known that Jimmy and Al Potter, combined, could be destructively lethal to anyone without a world-class sense of humor and a tolerance for practical jokes.

"Well, do we have an agreement in principle, then?" Nickels asked.

"I believe so," said James Potter. "My dad and grandpa will want to help get all the agreements drawn up. There are still two races to run with AVS, and I am going to give them my full attention. I think we should all keep this quiet until after the season, and then if everything plays out the way we talked about it tonight, it sounds wicked."

"All agreed then. Mum's the word. Get the solicitors moving; avoid the silly season."

Of course, this meant that by the time the Grand Prix circus arrived at the penultimate round in Shanghai, China, everyone in the motor racing world knew that Jimmy Potter was going to personally finance the brand new Phoenix Formula One Team. The fact that Phoenix was not the team name didn't seem to matter.

The time period at the end of every motor racing season, no matter what the type of racing or level of competition, has been known as the "silly season" since the end of muggle World War II. It is a time when old teams pull out of the sport, and new teams enter. It is a time when manufacturers trying market automobiles or motorcycles or boats or airplanes jockey for positions in racing series where they feel they get the most promotional value for the gigantic gobs of money they must spend.

With teams changing and technical support always in flux, it's no wonder that drivers and important team personnel are also moving around; sometimes from car to car within the same series; just as often jumping from one form of racing to another. The "silly" parts of the silly season are the hundreds, maybe thousands, of rumors that go flying about who is going where, why, and for how much.

The fact that only a few people actually knew the truth about Phantom Racing didn't matter to those telling the tales. James and Harry knew that it had gotten out of hand when veteran Formula One writer Herb Cook bothered to make his way out of the Grand Prix paddock to visit with the GP2 denizens.

"So mates," said Cook, acting like he had known the Potters forever, when in fact he had never even been introduced either of them, "I hear you're ready for the big step up. What's this Phoenix deal all about?"

Herb Cook was not their favorite person. Of course, very few writers had ever been favorites in the Potter household, given how they had been consistently treated in the tabloids. But Cook was a specialist. The only thing he wrote about was automobile racing, and so far, he had never bothered to introduce himself to the Potters. Despite Jimmy's apparent success, it seemed he did not exist in Cook's world.

Cook was a short man, only about five-foot-two. In his late 60s, he had been the leading motor sports writer in the world for over 40 years. He had a round face, perpetually rosy cheeks, a red nose, and wore the thickest glasses anyone had ever seen. He had very little hair, and what he had was worn in the worst possible comb-over. It was a joke in the paddock that he only had one hair, but that it was 100 feet long and wound repeatedly around his skull.

He also was an egomaniac to rival Rita Skeeter. He had made and broken so many driver and engineering careers that he probably believed it was he, and not the team owners, who decided who failed and succeeded in Grand Prix racing. Part of this stemmed from the fact that Cook had actually climbed up from the bottom. He had actually toiled as a mechanic for years, and then was promoted to team manager on a World Championship car. Promoted again to chief press officer for one of the leading Formula One teams, he had been driving the team passenger car the day it crashed and paralyzed his team owner from the waist down.

Fired, and deservedly so, from that job, he had moved on into both print and electronic journalism; and he had written and reported for virtually every important English language racing publication and television network.

"Nice race today, Jimmy," Cook said. "Of course, all your races have been nice."

"And nice of you to finally notice," Harry shot back. And it's not Phoenix Racing, it's Phantom Racing. Phoenix Racing was our family karting team."

"Dad!" Jimmy was not anxious to offend anyone in the media. His years of marketing education had not been wasted. "It's OK. Mr. Cook is an important man, and Formula One is much more important than any of the support formulae. I'm gratified he's had the time to notice me at all."

"Think nothing of it, my boy! You're sure to be the next big thing, and you can be sure I'll make everyone very much aware of it. I haven't seen anyone as good as you since Lewis Hamilton, and I've always thought that man uses voodoo on his competition." Hamilton, from Barbados, had burst on the Grand Prix scene in 2007 and was an overnight sensation. Veteran observers who had seen drivers like Jimmy Clark, Jackie Stewart, Ayrton Senna, Mario Andretti and Michael Schumacher all agreed they had never seen anyone as good as Hamilton.

"Right then. Phantom Racingit is. Is this the same group racing in the States? Saw them win at Indy! Very well turned outfit, although I know nothing about this Nickels character," Cook said.

"Really Mr. Cook, there's nothing to know right now. We were approached in Japan. We expressed an interest, but that's all. There are no details," Jimmy said. "My main focus is, and will be, AVS Racing, today, and in Brazil. Then, if everything works out in GP2 the way we hope it will, we will all sit down together and see what looks right for next year."

"But Jimmy, there must be other opportunities. Vesputi is retiring at Ferrari; McLaren can't keep a number two as long as Hamilton is there. Even a driver with your talent goes backwards if he chooses the wrong team."

"I'm not sure Jimmy is going to be a number two anywhere," Harry said, a bit more politely. "I think we're looking at things where he can come into the team as the lead driver. Better to be a big fish in a small pond that a little fish in the ocean."

"What about AVS moving up?" Cook asked.

"Sure. Always a possibility, isn't it? But it's also a matter of resources. As you and I both know, it's called silly season for a reason. By the time the lights go out for the first time next March, there will be a lot of rumors. Some will be true, and some will be … well …silly," Harry said.

"Well mates, you've neatly turned my attention away from Don Nickels," Cook said. Jimmy just stood there and smiled. The next one to speak would lose. There was a very long pause, a trademark Cook interviewing tactic. Finally, however, he broke. "OK. You blokes play it as close to the vest as you want for now. But when you have something to say, please remember I came looking for you before any of the other guys. Oh, and Jimmy…Harry…Arthur…please call me Herb!" The little journalist turned and began the long walk back to the Formula One paddock.


	4. Chapter 4, Meet The Sponsors

CHAPTER THREE: MEET THE SPONSORS

Although he won no more races that year, Jimmy had no trouble securing the championship. Strong podium finishes in both China and Brazil let him easily protect his points lead, and by Brazil, he was just as satisfied to be standing on the third step with the championship trophy as if he had been on the top of the platform.

Since apparition only works in regional areas, it would have required a port key to use magic to get home. Jimmy usually preferred to travel with his muggle friends on the crew. It was a long flight back home to England from Brazil, and an even longer two months waiting for the phone call that would determine his Grand Prix career. He spent the first two weeks back re-organizing his flat, getting all his laundry done, continuing his fitness routines, and making peace with the various family members who hadn't seen him for several weeks.

As it was now the height of the pre-holiday Quidditch season, there were a number of matches to attend. His brother Albus and his younger cousins still played at Hogwarts, and were the stars of the Gryffindor team. His father and uncle owned the Chudley Cannons professional team, so there were a number of important National fixtures to see. Meanwhile, his mother owned virtually every record worth having for the Holyhead Harpies, and had her number retired, so the family was frequently in demand at that pitch.

On his fifth week back, Jimmy decided he needed a break. After talking to his mum and dad, he contacted his best friend from school, Scorpius Malfoy, and the two began planning a holiday. They decided the pink sands of Bermuda would suit them best, so they booked connecting suites in the Pompano Beach Club, owned by the Malfoys. Scorpius had recently asked Jimmy's cousin, Rose Weasley, to marry him. They hadn't actually had time to celebrate the engagement, so Rose would come with them on the trip.

Jimmy asked Linda McKenzie, Rose's best friend from Hogwarts, to come along as well. Jimmy had never made much time for girls when he was growing up. Racing took most of his time. It was a sport where girls often threw themselves at him, but he was stayed veryfocused on his career. He had become friends with Linda through Rose, but neither of them considered it a romantic relationship. Once in awhile, they held hands or shared a kiss, but it was an easy, comfortable relationship without sexual tensions or expectations. "Friends with benefits," Linda liked to call it.

The Club was set on a cliff on the southwest coast, next to the Port Royal Golf Club. Built of pink stucco, the campus featured ten buildings, and each suite had its own balcony overlooking the ocean. As the owners, the Malfoys commanded two special units set beside the swimming pool, as well as a private owners clubhouse built right on the beach. The clubhouse was separated from the guests' beach by a rock outcropping, and was very secluded.

"Wow!" exclaimed Rose, who had never visited Pompano Beach before, "this is really special. Is this where we're going to honeymoon, Scorp?"

"Unless you can think of someplace that would excite you more, I think this would be nearly perfect, sweetheart," Scorpius said. "This house has a master suite in it, plus private catering from the Clubhouse kitchen. We're going to be in the family suite up above this week, and Mum and Dad are flying in on Friday; they'll be down here.

"James, Saturday, Dad wants to hold a small party for all of us and some of his business associates. I wouldn't be surprised if he wants to talk to you a bit about this Grand Prix opportunity. I think you know we have an agreement in principle with Phantom Racing, and that it's contingent on you wanting to be lead driver."

"Well, I've certainly been waiting for a phone call from someone," Jimmy said. "This sounds like a whole lot nicer way to work on the deal than buttoned up in a three-piece muggle suit in dreary London."

"Oh yeah! A lot more civilized, wouldn't you agree, old sport?" joshed Scorpius in his best posh imitation.

Over the next four days, the four friends enjoyed themselves immensely. They alternated time on the pool deck, which sat on a spectacular cliff immediately above the guest beach, with time on the private beach and in the swimming cove. The weather was perfect. None of them were avid golfers, but all four had played, so they got in a round at Port Royal, a Robert Trent Jones classic course.

All three restaurants offered fantastic views of the azure blue ocean, pink sand, and royal blue skies; the dining rooms were built one atop the other on the ocean side of the clubhouse. They tried all three, and one night, took advantage of an exchange program to dine and dance at The Reefs; but they preferred the somewhat more casual atmosphere of the Ocean Grill, which also offered the most contemporary menu.

Jimmy had been to the hotel twice before, with Scorpius, on holiday breaks. He was very familiar with the hotel Fitness Center, which featured everything he needed for his regular routine. Scorpius wasn't as committed to exercise, but when he was with Jimmy, he always found himself drawn in. On Thursday, the two friends took a day off to go reef fishing, while Rose and Linda booked four hours in the Serenity Spa.

There probably has never been a more luxurious or spectacular place for massage, facial and body treatments. The Spa was located right on the guest beach, the lowest of the five main clubhouse levels. Salt water soaking and baking in the sun could be combined with a number of things the girls loved, most having to do with skin, nails and hair in various body locations.

When the boys returned with a nice catch of fresh fish for dinner, Scorpius ordered personal chef service in the owners' clubhouse, and the four friends watched the sunset from the patio. They played some music, danced a bit on the beach, and shared a Champagne nightcap. Afterward, the quartet walked back up to their rooms, rested, relaxed and decompressed. It was hard for any of them to imagine a more glamorous, yet restorative, way to spend a week.

Draco and Astoria Malfoy arrived the next day on Draco's private jet. It had taken a long time for wizards and witches to get used to muggle air travel, and some never would, but there were times it simply suited the occasion better than brooms or port keys. This was one of those times, as the Malfoys brought some surprises with them.

"Mum, Dad!" squealed Rose in delight as Ron and Hermione Weasley walked into the lobby. Right behind came Harry and Ginny Potter, accompanied by Molly and Arthur Weasley. "What a great surprise,_**" **_Rose said. "You guys are going to LOVE it here! Scorp and I have already decided this is honeymoon central. It's heaven; it really is. You have got to see the beach house. Just fantastic."

As Rose gushed to her parents, Jimmy welcomed his own mum and dad. "Pretty nice digs, I'd agree," Harry said.

The fawning hotel staff immediately descended on the VIP guests of the owners. Their bags were seized by every bellman in the lobby; an Assistant Manager practically sprinted from behind the desk. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy…welcome back…welcome back! Everything is ready for you in the beach house. Draco and his guests have used it several times this week. If there's anything you want, I'm Roosevelt. Please don't hesitate to call me, any hour, day or night."

Draco was obviously amused. "Very good, Roosevelt. But I think Mr. Hopkins has surely told you my family and I expect to be treated like every other guest. And what I mean by that, is that I expect you to treat every other guest like the owners!"

"Oh, yes sir, yes sir!" said the embarrassed Assistant Manager.

"Make sure you get Mum to the spa," Jimmy said. "Mum, you don't get enough chances to be treated like a queen. You up for golf, tomorrow, Dad?" Ginny giggled. "I think Tori, Hermione and I already had that in our plans. Will Linda and Rose join us?"

"I think Rose and Linda would like to live in the spa," Harry said, and Linda gave him a friendly whack on the shoulder.

"Draco said something about golf on the plane," Harry said. "I suppose you can guess he's brought us all here to talk business, as well as for fun."

"Figured, but that's a good deal. Maybe we can get this all sewed up on our end before Nickels gets back to us," Jimmy said. "How did Gram take the trip?"

"Oh, about like you'd expect," laughed Harry. "Pretty much the same way Arthur did the first time we made him fly muggle air. Which is to say, terrified!"

"It was Gram's first time, wasn't it?"

"Yep. But Molly's a trooper, she is. We didn't have to drag her on the plane or tie her in her seat. We just let her grab Arthur and nearly break his arm, and we all put in cotton so her screams didn't bother us too much," Harry said with a grin.

"Actually, Arthur and I spent most of the trip at a table up front with Draco, looking over the contracts he is suggesting, and making a few minor counter-offers of our own. Also, I think you should know that Tori Malfoy seems to have made a lot of social progress with Ron and Hermione. I think they may finally be on the road to accepting that Scorpius and Rose actually ARE going to get married, and that we're all going to have a Malfoy in the family."

After a sumptuous catered dinner in the beach house, everyone was ready for an early turn-in. The men all needed rest if there was any chance of making their 8 AM tee time. And, since the Malfoys had planned a special reception for Saturday night, all the women had booked more time in the Spa.

Before he went to bed, Jimmy decided to spend some minutes standing on the balcony outside his suite, stargazing and dreaming of his future. For some reason, he now felt like he had the whole world near his grasp; he only needed to reach out and take it. A pair of slim strong arms wrapped around him.

"A knut for your thoughts," she said.

"Hi Linda. Having a good time?"

"Pretty perfect, buddy. Thank you so much for having me along."

Jimmy turned in her arms so he was facing her. "You know why I like being with you so much, Linda? You never put any pressure on me. You seem to be so happy just being with us, and by that, I mean all of us…not just me. You seem to understand that my career doesn't leave much room for family life, or committed relationships."

"I can be very patient, James Potter! Besides, what girl wouldn't find this life, being with you and your friends, exciting?" Linda said. "I get the best seat in the pits, vacations like this, posh parties, and I can be a glamour girl anytime I want."

"Yeah, like you WANT to be a glamour girl! That's another great thing about you, my friend. I don't know if I've ever met another person who is more comfortable inside her own skin than you, Linda. Tell you what. The last thing I want in a girlfriend is one who just wants to be arm candy. But, it doesn't hurt that you are the most beautiful girl in my brother's class!"

"Flatterer! Are you after something tonight, Potter? And what's this girlfriend stuff? Last time I looked, we were unattached and wanted to keep it that way."

"No problem, Lin. You're a free agent, and last time I checked, I was in no position to ask anyone for more commitment than this. As for being after something, we're sharing a bed. What more could I possibly be after?"

They both had a laugh, spent a few more minutes staring out over the ocean, just comfortable being with one another. Then it was time to share pleasures and sleep.

"Eight o'clock is just way too early for a tee time!" groused Scorpius Malfoy. "Just whose idea was this, anyway? At least Jimmy and I started at a civilized time when we played."

The six men stood outside the pro shop at Port Royal, drinking coffee, and watching their clubs loaded onto carts. "It was my idea, Son. Any further complaints?" grinned Draco Malfoy.

"I suppose not, Father," said Scorpius, pretending to snap to attention.

"Good. Now, this is as much business as pleasure, but let's have some fun and keep it interesting. I've put up one thousand galleons to the winning pair, and I intend to keep them. Harry, you will ride with me. Scorpius, I want you to get to know Ron Weasley, as apparently, he will soon be your father-in-law. Don't know how much either of us really like that, but there's no accounting for love, said the old woman as she kissed her cow.

"James, you and Arthur are the classic team, and I don't suppose there's a chance that even Dumbledore's Ghost could break you up. Just don't beat the rest of us too badly. Hopefully, you'll find it harder to lap someone on a golf course."

The first hole at Port Royal is a very long downhill par 4, dogleg right, which means the fairway bends around to the right so shots cannot be hit straight at the green. It takes a 275-yard drive, pretty long for average golfers, to leave a good second shot. Spray hitters are in big trouble, with trees on both sides going down the hill. But anyone who can't reach the bottom of the hill will have no choice except play for a five.

Of all people, the two best drives came from Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be the most serious golfer of the group, and Arthur Weasley. "I knew you were a sandbagger Arthur,carped Draco. "All that talk about muggle artifacts when we were growing up. I bet you've played this game all your life!"

"Not ALL my life Draco. Just 45 years or so. But never fear. I'm only a 14-handicap. Doubt I'll give you and Harry much trouble."

As the round progressed, all the players had a chance to get to know each other better, and become more comfortable. There is nothing like golf, where each player is responsible to himself and the others for sticking to the rules, to get to know another person. They say seventy-five percent of the most important business deals in the world either start or finish on a golf course. Draco Malfoy would probably put it higher.

"So, Potter. Who ever would have expected us, as boys, to be out here riding together in a golf cart, enjoying this perfect Bermuda weather?"

"And who ever would have expected us to grow up to be casual friends?" Harry said. "It's amazing how much changed when your mum saved my life. You really were a git when we were teenagers!"

"Well, it helped a lot when I got away from that arse who called himself my father," Draco said. "Once I was able to be my own man, I not only found I no longer believed in the pureblood philosophy, but that it was to my advantage not to behave like that. I seriously doubt that Wizard Products would have become the economic force it is today if I had persisted in acting like I was better than everyone else.

"But the one good thing that came out of it is an appreciation for the finer things in life. How do you like the hotel?"

"Simply spectacular, Draco. James says the kids have had a great time this week. It's been a real relief for him to get away from silly season."

"Well, I hate to drag you back into it, Harry, but I'm sure you know the reason all of you are here is because I hope to bludger him into accepting Don Nickels' offer. Day before yesterday, Hermione and I signed a major contract over her new propulsion technology. It's an important part of our marketing strategy to prove how effective that engine is through racing. Phantom wants to be our team, but in all honestly, I am going to go where Jimmy wants to go. I've let Scorpius convince me that's what will be best for all us, from both career and family standpoints."

"I have to admit it has its attractions," Harry said as they approached the 7th hole, a long par 5.

"You want to be careful here," Scorpius reminded them. "The green sticks out on a little finger of land into the ocean. There's a cliff on both sides and the back. Remember, you were long here last time, Jimmy." Arthur and James were carrying a two-stroke lead over Draco and Harry.

"So, Scorpius. I'm going to have you in the family whether I like it not," said Ron Weasley after they hit their tee shots. "Look, boy, I'm doing my best to adjust to this situation, but it's not easy for me. To say our families have not been close is an understatement. Enemies going back many generations is closer to the truth. But Dad seems to have accepted you, Harry and Ginny say you're a great guy, and my wife is going to brain me if I give you a hard time.

"So, only one question. Do you really love Rose as much as it seems, or is your family just playing us now that it seems we have achieved as much or more status as the Malfoys?" Scorpius could tell from the tone of Ron's voice that a great deal depended on his giving the correct answer.

"I don't blame you for being slow to accept me, Mr. Weasley," Scorpius said. "I know all the stories about how Father treated all of you at Hogwarts. I know it was hard to accept that he was never really a Death Eater. But look…up ahead. That's Harry Potter, your best friend, riding in the same golf cart as my dad. They aren't hexing each other, and in fact, I guarantee they're talking about how Wizard Products is going to sponsor Jimmy's career.

"He and I are best friends you know, Jimmy is. I think you know your wife and Father just did a huge business deal. And you can beabsolutely certain that I love Rose more than I love myself, more than I love life. This whole weekend is about relationship building, getting to know one another better, trying to see if we can all become one extended family. We want to do what families do. Look out for one another, help each other out in every way we can.

"So there's one thing I promise you. I will never ever hurt Rose. She owns my heart. She holds it for me. And if I ever do anything to break her heart, it will kill my own, and I will die. Do you understand?"

They sat in the cart, watching the others line up and take their shots. Ron silently followed the flight of each white ball. "Yeah, Scorpius, I get it. And I've decided that I'm going to try to give you the full benefit of the doubt.

"But…knock it off with the Mr. Weasley stuff. Arthur is Mr. Weasley. You should call me Ron until further notice. Shake?"

They smiled at one another and shook hands. It was the first time Ron had ever touched a Malfoy.

By the turn, James and Arthur had given back one stroke. James had sent his drive through the fairway on the 9th hole, and couldn't recover. "Looks like it's going to be close," he said, sending a 3-wood down the 10th fairway, a shorter mirror image of the first hole.

"Just keep it in the short stuff, me boy," his grandfather encouraged.

"So, what do you think of this little get-together, Grandpa? A little too over-produced, or a sincere effort?"

"I think there's more than a Grand Prix career going on here, Jimmy. The Malfoys have a lot going on with our families, now. Your aunt and Draco are business partners. Scorpius is marrying into our family, just as much as Rosie is marrying into his. I think their offer to you is legitimate, sincere, reasonable, and makes a lot of common sense. You and I both know the only real risk is that Phantom won't be able to produce a competitive chassis. As far as the team goes, you and I have never had trouble working with outsiders, and I'll be there to protect your interests."

"So, you think we should do it?"

"Yes, boy. I think we should tell them it's a go, and I think we should do it before we get back to the clubhouse. Next tee, I'm going to ask Draco to change riding partners with me. Tell him I need to talk something over with Harry. You talk to him for a couple of holes, and if you don't sense anything wrong, give him the OK."

"This hole is way out my range for a par," said Jimmy on the tee of No. 11.

"Draco, Harry and I need to discuss some family business. Mind riding with my grandson the next few holes?" Arthur said.

"Oh, sure. Good idea Mr. Weasley. Wish I'd though of it."

"It's Arthur, boy."

"OK, thanks Arthur," said Draco as he climbed into the golf cart with Jimmy.

"So, James, having a good time this week?" asked Draco as they pursued their balls down the fairway.

"Marvelous, Mr. Malfoy. Thanks so much for having us."

"Think nothing of it, Jimmy. And by the way, Mr. Malfoy died in prison. I know it may seem a little awkward at first, but please call me Draco or Dray. I actually prefer the later on casual occasions, if it's all the same to you."

"OK…Dray…I guess I can get used to that, especially in the pits."

"Speaking of that, Jimmy, if life is just a bowl of cherries, why are you always in the pits?" They both nearly fell out of the cart, laughing so hard.

"That was a good one. I'm surprised I haven't heard it before."

"Thanks. So, not to abruptly change course, but have you given the offers some thought?"

"Are you really serious about sticking with us, no matter how slow a start we may get? There's a big risk with a new team, you know. A lot of good drivers had their careers greatly diminished by a lack of Grand Prix success. But if you guys are serious about sticking with us, Grandpa and I are ready to do it.

"The main reason he wanted to trade carts is so I could tell you myself."

"I don't think you'll be disappointed, Jimmy. We're all going to be one big family by the end of the year. I don't think staying power is an issue."

"Great. Dray, we've got a deal!" exclaimed Jimmy, and men shook hands on it.

At the 16th hole, the match was all tied up. No. 16 at Port Royal is the signature hole on the course. It is a par 3, but the tee shot is over a deep ravine cut into the side of a cliff by the Atlantic. The green is slightly lower, but on the opposite cliff side. As if that wasn't frightening enough, the roar of the surf below was very distracting; the ocean seemed to be calling out to the golf balls like a siren to a sailor: "Here is peace. Come to me. Drown in me. They cannot hit you or hurt you again, once you come to me."

First to be hit, Ron's ball answered the call. "Well, that does it for us," he said.

After Scorpius hit his on the green, Draco stepped up and sent his shot straight at the flag. One bounce, a clang, and it rattled into the hole! "Hey…that's cheating," said Harry, suspecting that Draco might have "helped" his shot along with a little magic.

"Me? Cheat?" smirked Draco.

"Humm," said Arthur, stepping up and sending his own ball directly into the hole.

"Enough of that!" Harry said. "Play fair or don't play at all." And as he sent his own shot across the chasm, a little non-verbal spell dropped his ball in the cup, on top of the other two. "Up to you son," said Harry to James.

James could easily do anything the older wizards could do. But Jimmy Potter, race driver, was a sportsman. He struck his shot solidly and fairly, and landed it just inside Scorp's ball on the green. "Sorry, Grandpa," he grinned at Arthur. "You know I can't play like that."

When they returned to the resort, the men found the women had been polished to a breathtaking luster. "Great Merlin, Linda! You're enough to make me swear off friendship! You look sensational. How do you make your skin glitter like that?"

"A little magic, a little muggle," she smiled at Jimmy. "You like?"

"Do I really have to share you with the others?"

Linda McKenzie was tall and slim. She had blond hair that fell down her back, all the way to the middle of her thighs. Her dress for the reception was Ravenclaw midnight blue, and bronze stars moved slowly and subtly through the fabric; just enough to be seen by wizards, not obvious enough a muggle would notice. It ended at the same place as her hair, tantalizingly above the knee. She could have worn a high heel, but settled for a pair of bronze shoes with lower heels so that she and Jimmy were the same height.

Jimmy wore white, including a dinner jacket, white bow tie, and white Bermuda shorts. As usual, his cousin Rose wore a dress somewhere between scarlet and pink, with gold accessories. Rose was quite a bit shorter than her best friend Linda, but made up for it with lavish curves in all the right places. Scorpius also wore white Bermuda formalwear.

Even Molly Weasley had gone posh, her gold dress trimmed with burgundy satin and sequins. As hosts, Draco and Tori Malfoy had chosen black, although it was more usual to wear white in Bermuda. But Draco had given in to island custom, and wore black dress shorts.

The beach house had been romantically decorated for the reception. Throughout the rooms, white linen and gold tableware radiated elegance. Candles floated near the ceilings. A wizard orchestra played on the veranda, and the music wafted in through the open windows, or drifted down to the beach.

"Ah, Don, excellent to see you again. Penny, you're looking lovely as ever," said Draco as Don and Penny Nickels arrived. "I've got wonderful news. Jimmy and I shook hands on a deal this afternoon. He's all ours!"

"Fantastic news, Draco! I knew you could get it done. I've left him alone all fall for you to sort out. I was confident if you got him, the deal would be done.

"Ahh. Here's the young man of the moment right now. Jimmy, how are you doing lad?" Nickels said. "I hear you've decided to take on this new adventure with us."

"Sure have, Don. All the right pieces just seem to be in place. Really, it just almost seems like it was destined to be.

"Don and Penny Nickels, I'd like you to meet my very good friend, Linda McKenzie. Linda is Rose's best friend from school, and she and I hang out together whenever we can."

"Pleasure," they all told one another.

"Linda, as you probably have guessed by now, Don is the principal for Phantom Racing, where it looks like I'll be making my Formula One Grand Prix debut in March."

"We certainly hope you'll have the chance to see Jimmy race with us quite often," Nickels said. "Whenever you're planning to attend a race, make sure my assistant Vicky knows. We'll make sure you have all-access, and you should consider yourself part of the family. Make yourself at home in our facilities at the tracks."

"Thanks so much, Mr. Nickels. I am looking forward to a race or two, but Jimmy might not have made it clear; we're not really an item, so I won't be around bothering him all the time," she said with an award winning smile.

"Your loss, Jimmy," said Nickels with a laugh. "You really need to make some time for this young woman in your life. She looks like a keeper to me!"

"She certainly is all of that," Jimmy said. "But I can't ask her to wait around for me forever. She deserves a lot more than that. But as long as she wants to hang out, I'm all for it.

"Oh, here come Rose and Scorp. You guys know them already?"

"I know Scorpius, of course," said Nickels, and the couple walked up to the group hand-in-hand.

"Don and Penny Nickels, my cousin Rose Weasley. Soon to be the wife of my best friend, young Mr. Malfoy here."

"Nice to see you again, Scorpius. My, that's quite a prize you have on your arm there! Delighted to meet you Rose. This is my wife, Penelope, or Penny."

"I was already warned I was not to make any jokes about coins," Rose said with a laugh. "I'm just so delighted all of you could come, especially tonight when we have such good news to share."

"Looks like we'll all be one big happy family for the next few racing seasons, at least," said Penny Nickels. "I understand you and Scorpius will be with us on the road all season, looking after Wizard Products' interests?"

"Looking forward to it so much!" Rose exclaimed. "I've always envied Jimmy getting to see so much of the world. Now it looks like Scorp and I will get to share in some of his adventures. Who wouldn't be excited about that!"

"Right. Well, motor racing is a lot of work, but it is a lot of fun, too. In fact, if it wasn't so much fun, I'm not sure there's enough money in the world to make it worth the amount of effort you have to put in. But great success will justify it, and we expect great things of Jimmy Potter," Don Nickels said.

"And Jimmy…sorry to say, but the hard work begins at once. Next week, in fact. We'll need you at the shop to start fitting you to the cars. I'll send you an owl tomorrow to let you know the exact time on Monday. Do you know where to go?"

"I think so. You're in the old Jordan factory up at Silverstone, aren't you?

"That's right. We took over the Force operation. There's a long history there, going from Jordan to Midland to Spyker. It's kind of an outdated shop by now, so we're starting to look around for a more contemporary place, but I think we're going to be there this season."

"Well, you know, Dad and Grandpa said something to you about our place," Jimmy said. "We've got a state-of-the-art test track, but we don't have a building that would be up to Formula One standards. Not that we couldn't fix that shortcoming."

"One thing at a time, lad, one thing at a time," grinned Nickels. "Let's see if we can find room to fit your lanky frame into a car before we start worrying about where to build and test it. In the meantime, tonight is not for work. Let's have some fun!"

With that, the group broke up and began making the rounds of the party. Draco had invited most of the top officers of his corporation to attend, so James and Linda soon found themselves being towed around by Tori Malfoy for introductions. Harry had insisted on very limited press attendance, something his status as hero and holder of Order of Merlin First Class had always given him the ability to command. However, the writers that were there were the important ones, the ones who could be relied on not to sensationalize the Potter, Weasley and Malfoy families, or Jimmy's career.

"Hi, Aunt Luna!" Jimmy exclaimed, as he made his way over to Luna Longbottom, owner and publisher of the Quibbler.

"Hi, Godson," returned the old family friend. "Who is that delish gray man you were just talking to?" she asked with her signature dreamy voice. "Neville will have to lock me away in a chastity belt if I spend much time interviewing that one."

"Looks like I have new ride, Aunt Luna, and he's the team owner. Don Nickels. The team is called Phantom Racing."

"Ah. After the old Gaston Leroux tales, I suppose. You do know that Le Gaulois, where it was first published, is the French equivalent of the Quibbler, don't you? Daddy was close friends with the publisher. According to him, George du Maurier's "Trilby" was based on real events at the Paris Opera House, and Lerouz supposedly investigated them and only barely fictionalized the account. I don't believe the nargles ever played a role in the story, however. I believe it was gremlins.

"There are some who believe that Erik, the supposed phantom, actually existed, you know, and that he was a very powerful wizard. Those who believe in that version believe that he taught himself advanced magic without ever attending a school. But of course, if true, he also taught himself music and philosophy. In one version of the tale, Erik died in Paris in 1881, but in another, after the events in the Leroux story, he moved to New York City. There, he was one of the promoters who established amusement parks on Coney Island," Luna added.

"I saw the muggle musical once in London," Linda said. "A beautiful and sad story of unrequited love. Could be a bit like us, Potter," she said with a wink at Jimmy.

When they finished working the room, Jimmy and his friends made their way down to the beach. The music easily reached them here, and they began to dance. Jimmy smiled when he saw his mother and father join the dancers, and soon he saw that even his Aunt Hermione had dragged Uncle Ron down to the sand.

"Well, it's sure been quite a week," Jimmy whispered to Linda. "I can't imagine too many other drivers have had such a pleasant time meeting the sponsors."

"The pleasures aren't over yet, Potter," Linda whispered back.


	5. Chapter 5, Meet The Team

CHAPTER FOUR: TEAM HEADQUARTERS

Silverstone Racing Circuit is located largely in Northamptonshire, on a former World War II bomber base. An uplands county in the midlands, Northampton was once very important in the timber trade. However, it's most important modern day claims to fame seem to be the fact that it touches more counties than any other shire in England, and of course, the Grand Prix circuit.

Silverstone is the oldest Formula One circuit still in use. First used in 1948, it actually hosted the initial "recognized" Grand Prix of the modern era, in 1950; a race won by Italian wizard Giuseppe Farina driving an Alfa Romeo. Virtually every notable formula one driver has a win at Silverstone, including Fangio, Clark, Stewart, Senna, Prost and Schumacher. The only Australian ever to win there was Jack Brabham, and the only US driver to win at Silverstone was Peter Revson, heir of a North American potions manufacturer.

This last is important to the history of Phantom Racing. Revson won at Silverstone in 1973 in a McLaren, and the next year switched to the team run by Don Nickels' relative. Those solid black cars were known as "Shadows". While testing in South Africa, Revson's Shadow suffered a suspension failure, and he was killed in the resulting crash. Over the ensuing years, a great number of things happened to Shadow, many of them bad. The team went through many name changes, owner changes, and location changes, but if one follows the genealogy back far enough, it seems that Phantom Racing is the direct descendant of that team. Something of a co-incidence, then, that the team headquarters is just outside the gates of Silverstone.

The owl Jimmy Potter received from Nickels asked him to arrive at the shop at ten in the morning. The main purpose was to begin the process of fitting him to the car, but of course, it also provided an opportunity for Jimmy to meet the team members.

Jimmy and his grandfather were met in the lobby by Don Nickels. "Welcome to Phantom!" Nickels spread out his arms, then extended his hand. "We're so glad to have both of you. We think this is going to be an outstanding collaboration. It's rare for a new team to enjoy any success in this sport. You know that as well as we do. But we have high hopes, more resources than most, and we have you!

"I believe your solicitors and ours have both vetted the contracts, and I have them here for you signatures. That should be the first order of business," Nickels added.

"I would like you to meet Miss Victoria Bailey, our office manager." A cheerful young woman in her mid-20s stepped forward. She was dressed very professionally in a business suit. "Vicky does everything here. She writes our press releases, manages our public relations, handles all our correspondence, makes our travel arrangements, and keeps us all on schedule. Her assistant, Betsy Ludwig, answers the phones, sorts the mail, does the basic bookkeeping and scheduling." A curly haired blond gave Jimmy a shy smile.

"Vicky, if you and Betz could show James and Arthur around the front office, and then bring them to the conference room, I'd appreciate it." Nickels took a step towards his office. "I have one sponsor obligation to fulfill, then I will be with you the rest of the day. Girls, maybe you can find them some tea or coffee?"

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, this way if you please," said the perky brunette. "This first office is Mr. Howard, our accountant. Next to him is Mr. Dictarow, our lead solicitor. You'll actually be meeting him in a few minutes. This next room is the design center," she said, pointing out a very large glass-enclosed area full of drafting tables and computers. "You have no doubt heard of Mr. Tony Dowe, our Chief Designer?"

"Oh sure," Arthur said. "I've always admired the simple elegance of that championship car he did for McLaren." Arthur clearly would have liked to linger here, but Betsy was following behind, and motioned for the group to continue.

"Well, we're hoping for even more from our current engineering and management staff," Vicky said, giving Arthur a meaningful glance.

"Next is our Chief Engineer, Dr. Jay Huffman." A smallish, balding man, wearing black-rimmed glasses, spun around in his chair.

"Ahh…the brilliant young Mr. Potter! And Mr. Weasley, too! What a wonderful surprise. You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to working with the two of you. The AI is almost ready…" Dr. Huffman gestured towards his computer… "and you will meet the car this afternoon. She's looking forward to it as much as I am."

By 2027, the greatest advances in Formula One technology were in the area of artificial intelligence. In all racing below the level of Grand Prix, cars were controlled in a more-or-less traditional fashion: Gas pedal, brakes, gear choices, steering wheel, engine management systems, and a few major in-cockpit adjustments.

However, in Grand Prix cars, computer control of the many complex systems had evolved into a very sophisticated form of artificial intelligence, directly linked to the driver. In fact, the ability of a driver to communicate effectively with his car had become just as important as his ability to feel cornering and braking limits. In a sense, a driver could "think" his way around a circuit, and help the computer controlling the car's systems maximize every variable.

"I'm looking forward to it as well, Dr. Huffman. Obviously, I've never interacted with a Formula One car before. It will be a new learning experience." If there was anything Jimmy was nervous about in making the transition from GP2 to GP1, it was this process of blending with the artificial intelligence. While he knew it was not the same, Jimmy had always thought of this process as being similar to Legilimency. As an expert Occlumens, Jimmy was concerned that he might instinctively resist the process, block the car from invading his mind at a critical moment.

"Indeed it will, James, indeed it will." Dr. Huffman stretched himself up to his full height, five-foot-two. "Of course, full AI has only been possible at this level for the past two years. If you'll pardon my boasting, I think I may be six months to a year ahead of the others. Tony and I are not sure if we have the best car, but we think we have the best AI in the series. Today, we'll begin the process of proving it."

"Doctor, I need to get them to the conference room now," said Vicky. She was beginning to get a bit annoyed with Huffman's bragging. It would be nice, she thought, if he could prove what he was saying before he opened his mouth. Of course, like everyone else working there, she hoped he was right.

Vicky led Jimmy and Arthur back towards the front of the building. Like most race shops, Phantom was a large steel hanger-like building. Many teams had originally located at Silverstone because some of the old bomber hangers could be used as race shops. Over time, all of them had been torn down and replaced by arch-truss pre-fabricated barns. Two or three such structures could be connected together to make a large and functional space. In the case of Phantom, a good sized structure had been built of black granite and tinted windows in front of three steel structures. These had recently been painted a dark British Racing Green, and the Wizard Products logo was painted in gold on all four sides of the building.

The facility sat on an enormous paved area that backed up nearly all the way to the racing circuit. While it was nominally a parking lot, it had been paved in such a way, and instrumented, so that it could be used as a skid pad. A short connector road allowed the team to take a car directly from the shop onto the Silverstone circuit on testing days. In trade for access to testing time on the circuit, the team allowed the British Race Drivers Club (who promote the Grand Prix) to use the lot for parking on race weekends.

The conference room sat in the very front of the office structure, cooled by the reflective dark window glass. The carpet was a dark forest green, with gold WP logos woven in. The walls were a dark golden oak paneling, as was the substantial furniture. Jimmy's attention was immediately grabbed by a large painting on the wall opposite the main windows. It was a watercolor. Off a mottled dark green background, a white mask, solid, plastic, with two eye holes and a nose surround was rendered. Through one eye hole passed the stem of a red rose.

"What's that for?" Jimmy asked. It was an odd painting_**.**_ Surprisingly stark and avant-garde, yet very emotional.

"That has been with me a very long time," Don Nickels said as he entered the room. "That is the Phantom Racing logo. As you look around the room, and our facility, you will see that our sponsors get the lion's share of recognition. That logo is my one connection to the past, and all our cars carry that on the nose."

"It's actually quite beautiful," Arthur said. "Almost too nice for a racing car."

"I quite agree," Nickels said. "But as I said, it's been with me for a very long time. There's some very old magic in that painting, and it's quite symbolic of the way our company frequently rises from the ashes, just like your own Phoenix outfit.

"Now, if all of us are ready, I believe we have some paperwork to complete. This is Steven Dictarow, our company lawyer. He has met several times with your own solicitors, and these contracts are those approved in principle by both parties. Steve?"

"Yes, Don, James, Arthur. Pleased to meet you two." Dictarow was a very short, overweight man sporting a large nose and very black hair. His skin was naturally dark. His smile was broad, but Arthur was reminded of photos of sharks; Dictarow never let anyone see his teeth.

As the documents were passed around, Jimmy and Arthur noted that they had been countersigned and sealed by their own attorneys. "You'll notice we have taken you up on that option to eventually build the race shop at your place," Dictarow noted. "If everything works out well this year, construction would begin in the winter, you would retain ownership of the facility in the event we split up, and you would be paid a generous lease fee for each season Phantom Racing uses the new facility."

"That's perfect," Arthur said. "From what you said earlier, Don, I wasn't expecting this existing facility to be as nice as it is."

"It's just a touch outdated, Arthur. We have to jury-rig some of our equipment because the building wasn't designed to handle it. And we don't have our own moving surface wind tunnel here; we will in the new building."

Since everyone was satisfied with the contracts, signing was a formality. When all the I's and T's had been dotted and crossed, Vicky brought four more people into the room, along with trays of sandwiches and tea.

"Jimmy, you already met Jay Huffman. This is Tony Dowe, your designer."

"Pleasure!"

"These two gentlemen, Arthur, will be of extreme interest to you as team manager. They are your lead mechanics, Franz Weiss and Troy Rodgers."

"Gentlemen. An honor," Arthur Weasley said as he looked over the two men he would be managing, the two men who would be entrusted with his grandson's life.

"Looking forward to workin' with you, Mr. Weasley; really lookin' forward to it," said Weiss.

"You did a heckofa job for Jimmy last year, sir. We hope we can serve you as well as AVS managed," added Rodgers, moving his eyes from Jimmy to Arthur and back again. "After lunch, we'll be meetin' up with the both of you in the shop, and we'll get goin' on makin' Jimmy's seat."

"And I think Dr. Huffman wants to make the initial helmet fitting, and see how the connections work out. Maybe give the AI a sniff of you. That's always the big adjustment. If we can get you and the computer talkin' to one another early on, it's a whole lot easier to get the car adjusted right out of the box," Weiss laughed.

"Jimmy, you like left-foot braking, don't you," Dowe asked as he looked down in the notebook had had brought into the room.

"Yeah, sure. I'm a trail-braker. King of the late brakers, the karters all called me."

"Good, good! I put the pedal on the left, and a dead pedal, and no clutch." Dowe checked off a couple more items on his list.

"That'll work just fine for me, Tony, as soon as we get the placements adjusted properly. I like a little room between the pedals so I don't drag the brakes by accident when I move my foot." Jimmy took another sandwich from the tray.

"Understood," Dowe replied, pouring himself a bit more tea and adding a dollop of milk. "Now, you like the shifter paddles low, not high, correct?

"Yes, I like to use the bottom three fingers of each hand on the paddles. I know more guys prefer the top two fingers, and high placement, but I like my thumb and index finger around the wheel at all times. It's just a habit I picked up in the karts."

"Easily doable," Dowe said with a laugh. "What we'll do as soon as we're all done eating is go back to the shop. We've got a mule setup, and we'll get you sitting in it while we move the pedals and the steering wheel until you are relatively comfortable. Then we'll cast the seat.

"Once the seat is actually made and installed, you'll come back and we'll go through the process with the pedals and wheel once more to account for any changes the seat makes in your position, and then we should be able to finalize the cockpit capsule."

With lunch finished, the engineers and mechanics led Jimmy to the work area. The factory was brightly lit, and scrupulously clean. Everything was completely organized into work bays, all of which either had a specific purpose during car construction, or were dedicated to each completed car in the team. At the moment, there were no cars, only mules. A mule is a construction jig, a framework of aluminum rods and connections that is almost infinitely adjustable within the limits of a box built to the maximum dimensions allowed by the rules.

By working within the framework of the mule, the team could tentatively assemble the various components of the car without exceeding the size restrictions. The basic elements of a Formula One racecar are the engine, which will take a certain amount of length, width and height, and the "tub" where the fuel is carried. The driver sits in a survival capsule cockpit within the tub. All the other systems, including bodywork, aerodynamics, suspension, and wheels, are hung off the engine or tub.

The seat is the starting point for the survival capsule. In order to make the driver as comfortable as possible for about two-and-one-half hours, he needs to be held firmly in place and given some cushioning. The seat, the safety harness, and a roll-over system, all work together to protect the driver in an accident, so the seat must be snug and offer the correct support.

This is accomplished in a way that would seem almost ridiculous to outsiders. The largest possible plastic trash bag is spread out inside a tub structure that approximates the size of the capsule. The bag is filled with a foaming liquid plastic material which sets up into a solid after about 30 minutes. This material is rather like the foam inside a seat cushion, but more solid. As soon as the liquid has foamed up and begun to set, the driver sits down in the tub form and starts wiggling around. The object is to get the foam to mould itself around his legs, butt and lower body. He pushes back into the mould so that the foam squeezes around his ribs and abdomen, and wriggles his legs down into it until they are supported all the way down his knees.

After the foam sets up solid, the mechanics can then trim the excess from the casting. Most of the time, they simply leave the garbage bag molded around the seat, and then cover the whole thing with a non-slip material. They cut slots through the back and bottom through which they pass the belt harness, which is in turn bolted to the metal tub of the finished car. Once the seat is finished, then it can be used to start the mould for the carbon fiber castings that will form the finished tub. In tanks on both sides from approximately the driver's knees on back, to a tank behind the seat, is the fuel. Forward of the drivers knees are the steering and suspension components, as well as the electronics that manage the systems.

As soon as Jimmy was done squishing around in his trash bag, and sitting still for a few minutes while the foam solidified, the mechanics led him to another area of the shop. "Dr. Huffman will be out in a minute," Troy said as he showed Jimmy to a seat beside a work station. On the table was a plain white helmet, connected to a small black box by a long flexible wire. Another wire connected the box to a much larger computer unit that stood at the back of the work area. Jimmy couldn't tell if that machine was further networked in the building, but supposed it was.

"Ahh, good James! I imagine we have you comfortably fitted, at least for the time being. It's just a starting point, you know. We can always make changes later." Dr. Huffman began by picking up the helmet and checking inside, then tugging on the wire to make sure the connection was solid.

"Now, we'll just slip this on. What I want you to do is clear your mind of all thoughts except for who you are, where you come from. You can think about things you like to do, favorite subjects in school, and so on. You can go over these things as many times as you like, but please try to stay away from outside distractions and worries."

Huffman slipped the helmet over Jimmy's head. "Move it around until it sits as comfortably as possible," he instructed.

Huffman walked back to the mainframe unit and threw a switch. The small black box on the table lit up. Inside the helmet, Jimmy could suddenly feel some cold, probing sensations. It was, in some ways, as though small needles were trying to work their way through his scalp, but neither hot nor electric, just icy. "Make sure you relax as much as possible, clear your mind, let the unit establish contact," Huffman coached. "It will take five to ten minutes."

Jimmy let his mind wander back to his boyhood days, back to the first time his grandfather had taken him to see a race. Huffman had tried to steer him away from this part of his life, but it was so much a part of him that he couldn't avoid it.

He remembered that race so clearly…a sports car race instead of an open-wheel competition. He remembered that the first thing that had drawn him in had been the colors. The cars were an amazing array of bright paint and decorations. Then there had been the shapes. Sports racing cars always had futuristic bodywork, low and swoopy with elegant fenders over the tires, and fins and wings to manage the air.

And then there was the noise. Actually, all different kinds of noise. The low throaty grumbles of the engines based on production cars. The exotic whines of the engines using turbochargers. The painful scream of the engines using many small cylinders and high revolutions per minute to make horsepower. All together, they created a symphony of sound, a chorus in perfect pitch and harmony. When you were far enough away, it was impossible to pick out one over another…there was just a buzz. But when you were close, leaning against a fence at the end of straight piece of road, an individual car could come hurtling at you making a sound like a runaway dynamo, growing louder from the Doppler effect as it came closer; then, when it passed, almost allowing you to pick out the individual explosions in each cylinder.

Jimmy had been enthralled. Arthur had gotten paddock passes, and they could walk around before the race and watch as the mechanics worked on the cars. Some drivers were very friendly, especially some of the wizards who Arthur already knew from work. One even let Jimmy sit in the seat of his car. He was hooked.

"Hello, Jimmy." It was not a sound. It was simply something his brain recognized.

"Hello?" Jimmy wondered where this greeting was coming from.

"I am the communication interface for your AI car management system. The first thing we need to do is get acquainted. Would you like to give me a name?"

"I already have one picked out. You'll be Hedwig."

"Hedwig. Yes. I like that. Your father's first owl. I see the memories of the stories in your mind. I will be Hedwig."

A/N: For more information about this story and others, or to participate, please visit the forum "Sports In The Harry Potter Universes". Here is a link:

/forum/SportsInTheHarryPotterUniverses/45864/


	6. Chapter 6, Here's Hedwig

**_A/N: So, it's finally time to see Jimmy Potter in a racing car, and meet the artificial intelligence control unit he has named Hedwig, in memory of his father's old pet. Hope you don't think of her as some kind of Frankenstein creation. Or, maybe I hope you do. Either way, the price of reading is a review. Entertainment on fan fiction web sites is free; I earn nothing from the creation of this story. So, you owe me a review, good, bad or indifferent._**

CHAPTER FIVE: HERE'S HEDWIG

There was a bright burst of electricity, and she awakened. Almost immediately, as she did every time she was awakened, she began to sense what was around her. She could feel the smooth, cold concrete of the floor through her rubber tires. She could distinguish the hydrogen, oxygen, helium and trace gasses in the air. In fact, the air this morning was heavy with carbon monoxide, which meant they had been running a generator, and carbon dioxide, which meant they had been testing engines.

She turned her attention to scanning her discs and digital storage units. It was important to make sure her files were uncorrupted and unchanged since yesterday before she put up the firewall and interfaced with the mainframe. It was unlikely, but always possible, that a virus might have somehow either been loaded into her files with a delayed timing restart. It was a bigger concern that a Trojan of some sort might have found its way onto the mainframe overnight, but she would not allow any new information to be introduced into her systems until both Dr. Huffman and she had scanned them.

She brought her optical sensors online and found Huffman, standing off to the side behind the backup unit on the table. She took a reading. He was exactly 1.678 meters tall and a chubby 11.786 stone. No change since yesterday's data. She took a quick retina scan. It was indeed Dr. Huffman. He was working his wand in the direction of the mainframe, no doubt completing his examination of that unit. Then she noticed that he was drawing out memories from his mind and placing them in the pensieve; ahh, he must have had a brainstorm overnight and was updating the system.

She watched as he pulled one long gray thread back out of the pensieve, and with a wave, sent it floating into the mainframe interface.

"Good morning, Doctor," she said, now that less of her attention was required on her own discs, sensors, and security issues.

"Good morning, Hedwig. I hope you slept well. Have you found any glitches in your circuits this morning?" Huffman didn't bother to turn and look at the car sitting on the factory floor behind him. He already knew it was dark green, had four large tires on four brightly polished wheels, sat low to the ground, and had a single opening into the cockpit where young Jimmy Potter would soon be sitting. That wasn't important. What mattered was whether or not the artificial intelligence interface was working properly.

"Everything is exactly as we left it when we shut down yesterday, Dr. Huffman."

Huffman withdrew one last thread from the glowing bowl, and deposited it in the mainframe interface. "Excellent, Hedwig. I have one new routine dealing with engine startup that I want to download. Jimmy will be along fairly soon. This morning, we want to start the engine and other systems, and make sure everything is working. We want to scan for any bad connections or system leaks. In particular, I want you to feel around for any loose nuts, bolts, rivets of any kind, make sure all the safety wire was installed, and just make sure nothing can fall off.

Huffman picked up a headset from the table and put it on. Smiling, he thought, "Hedwig, are you picking me up?"

"Yes, Doctor." Huffman took off that headset, tried a second with the same result, and then put Jimmy Potter's helmet on his own head. "Everything working here, too, Hedwig?" He got the reply he wanted, but frowned a little. "Hedwig, I think you need to sharpen up cortical connection ZX5FM164, please." He tested again, and pronounced the helmet ready for the day's session. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat, knowing that his control unit was almost certainly the best in racing.

"As soon as we are certain it's safe, you and Jimmy will head out for your first shakedown laps. Are you excited?"

"Yes, Doctor. As you might imagine, I am fairly tired of being limited to the things I can sense in the shop. Will you be pre-loading the Silverstone profile, or do you want us to sense our way around the course this morning?"

"I believe we'll just take it easy this morning, Hedwig. I'll ask Jimmy to drive you fairly slowly and make sure nothing shakes loose. Maybe 10-15 laps. Both of you should feel your way around the circuit and communicate back and forth with one another. Let Jimmy guide you in what he thinks he will want at various places.

"Then we'll come back in and download everything, tighten up the nuts and bolts, trace down any leaks, make sure you can sense the suspension components and the tire contact patch. I don't want to lose any real testing time to some mechanical glitch. We are starting late compared to many other teams, and really can't afford to lose testing time."

"I really will not be able to give you any true mechanical feedback unless we run a few hard laps, Doctor," Hedwig reminded.

"Of course, dear. Not to worry. The next set of laps will be run closer to the baseline. Again, we'll be looking for the same kinds of problems. Connections that come loose, leaks, and so on. Your sensors should all be functioning one hundred percent in that set of laps, and I'll ask Jimmy to give you about ninety percent for 10 or 15 laps. That should get the first fuel load down to near empty, and you can sense for pickup and fuel pressure problems near the end of the run."

Hedwig, the artificial intelligence in the Phantom 01 Formula One car, was being configured by the Chief Engineer, Dr. Jay Huffman. Like many in his profession, Huffman was a complete nerd who was never happier than when tinkering with his computers. Ironically, it really didn't matter to him what the end result should be. His life was completely involved with the process of getting to the end result, and he could actually care less about either auto racing or winning. So long as Hedwig performed as he had planned, he would be perfectly content, living in his own little world with no friends, no family and no outside life to enjoy.

For the past four weeks, the Phantom Racing Team personnel under the direction of Team Manager Arthur Weasley and Chief Designer Tony Dowe had been building the car around the cockpit, fuel tanks and engine that formed its backbone. Working closely with Jimmy Potter, who would drive Hedwig in Grand Prix races, they had made numerous adjustments to make sure Jimmy and his teammate would be comfortable in the design. While the engine had been run many times on a dyno, today would be the first time it was started while mounted in the car and controlled by Hedwig.

With the first race of the 2026 Grand Prix season only two months away, the team had a tremendous amount of work still to do. If they found mechanical problems today, it would only compound their situation. They hoped to put in about 100 laps of Silverstone today, spend two days making any required adjustments, and then get in two more full days of running at their home circuit. Mark Alanetti, the second driver, would then arrive and be fitted to his own car.

After another full week of Silverstone testing, during which they hoped to get in at least some wet weather running, the team would decamp to Spain for the pre-season tests at Barcelona. Phantom Racing had also booked a private testing week at the Jerez Circuit, and a 3-day set at Valencia. Even with all that time, they would be at least two full test sessions behind most of the competition. Most of the factory-backed teams, Ferrari, McLaren, BMW, Renault and Honda, would have gotten their first laps in by January 15.

"Dr. Huffman, I have completed that scan of nuts, bolts, safety wire and connections which you asked me to perform." Hedwig did not sound anything like an artificial intelligence. There was nothing tinny or exceptionally formal about her voice or her manner of speech. Indeed, she sounded more like a young woman than a machine. "Currently, there are no loose connections of any kind. However, I have determined that wiring harness connection 322XYS is resting against a portion of the chassis, and is likely to shake loose soon after startup. Please have Troy or Franz recheck that area of the harness."

"Thank you, Hedwig! That's perfect. Brilliant work." Huffman was now wearing the headpiece again, which connected his mind directly into the mainframe and the artificial intelligence system managing the car. While those interfacing with Hedwig did not exactly "hear" spoken words, her connections allowed them to interpret the electrical impulses she sent as sound. In the same way, they could access her optical and tactile sensors if needed, but they tried to avoid these connections as much as possible because they were disorienting to humans.

At that moment, the mechanical staff arrived, with Jimmy Potter in tow. "So Doc, what's up?" asked Jimmy_**.**_ He found it impossible to avoid using certain obscure muggle references when dealing with his friends and crew. He doubted any of them had ever seen a muggle cartoon in which a character said, "What's up, Doc?" but couldn't resist the private joke with himself.

"Good morning Arthur, Troy, Franz. I trust you all had good evenings and have also fed young Mr. Potter this morning?"

"Yes, Jay, good morning! It's a lovely morning indeed," said Arthur Weasley. "Have you not set foot outside this building to see it?" Arthur knew it had been months since Huffman had been outside, and suspected the man would be surprised to find that it was a brisk winter day.

"No time, no time for that…

"Troy, Franz, Hedwig says that part of the wiring harness at 322XYS might rub against the chassis or be subject to vibration when we start the engine. Take a look at that for me boys, if you would. And Arthur, please take charge of getting your grandson ready. Much to do today; much to do!" A chronic little man, Huffman bustled about as though the entire operation depended on him; of course, he overlooked the fact that Weasley was the team manager, and actually outranked him.

Arthur started helping James get dressed for his first shakedown in the car. Although fire was no longer the great fear of racing drivers it had been until 2020, when fuels were changed dramatically, drivers still dressed in fire retardant clothing. By 2025, the main emphasis was on lightweight body armor designed to protect from penetrating injuries in a crash, and as always, on head protection. Car construction had improved so much that there had not been a racing fatality from crash or fire since 2013, and the various protection systems now performed so well that it was rare when a driver had to miss a race due to injury.

Once Jimmy was wearing his equipment, the wiring harness had been adjusted, and the car disconnected from the mainframe, the crew pushed it outside. Jimmy stepped onto the seat, and then slid his legs down under the dashboard. He was a little tall as Grand Prix drivers go. He wiggled around in the seat until he was comfortable, and checked to make sure the pedal locations were still where he had set them on the last visit to the shop. Comfort and ease of operation are vital when driving a racing machine near the limit of adhesion.

Jimmy had visited the shop several more times since the contract signing, and had interfaced with Hedwig on three more occasions. It seemed to him that they had been able to communicate clearly. He had experimented with instructing her to make adjustments, and the computer simulations indicated they had been performed seamlessly.

"All we're gonna do is start 'er up and make sure everything works," said Franz Weiss, who was the lead mechanic on the engine systems. "Give 'er a turn, Jimmy, but keep the revs down for now."

Jimmy reached up to the dash and flicked on two switches. The first started the fuel management system, which broke water down into hydrogen and oxygen, and pumped it to the injectors that Hedwig controlled. The second took the electrical system live. "Everything is nominal, Jimmy," said Hedwig in his head, communicating with him through electrodes inside his helmet. Jimmy pushed up and held a third rocker switch, and the engine sprang to life behind his back.

Watching the revolutions-per-minute indicator on the dash and listening to brief reports from Hedwig, Jimmy rocked his right foot forward and back on the throttle. The engine in the Phantom was a Voltage V10. The Voltage Motor Company, from the Middle East, had become a force in the automotive and motorcycle markets ever since the change from petroleum based fuels to alternative energy sources had been mandated by international law. The area might have once been oil rich, but manufacturers there had invested the profits wisely in technology that no longer required petroleum.

This particular Voltage V10 burned hydrogen gas, at least according to publicly released information. The press releases said the car carried 100 liters of water, which was broken down by a process similar to electrolysis into hydrogen and oxygen. These were burned in the engine, recombining into water. Supposedly, this combustion provided the power to move the pistons, rotate a crankshaft, and drive the car; in reality, a magical system designed by Hermione Weasley used the motion provided by the pistons to grasp matter at a sub-elemental level and pull the car along. The physics were similar to those used by wizards in operating port keys and the Knight Bus; however the car and driver remained visible at all times.

Under the rules, this magical/muggle system was neither cheating nor illegal. It was an alternative power source based on water as described in the rules. However, it was not thought to be economically nor politically prudent to reveal how it actually worked to muggles.

"Any leaks, Hedwig?" Arthur was asking. He was now the third person connected to artificial intelligence by a headset.

"I don't sense anything, Mr. Weasley. Jimmy, please use more RPM for a few minutes. Dr. Huffman, I believe we have a small circulation problem just behind the main bulkhead. If you will connect Mr. Dowe, I will show him what I see and make a suggestion how he might redesign the part."

"Will that interfere with our test plan today, Hedwig?"

"No, it's minor. It will be a fuel efficiency problem over a race distance, but it will not affect our testing. Jimmy, please add more RPMs now."

After about fifteen minutes of running the engine RPMs up and down and pressure testing various systems, Hedwig reported that everything seemed to be solidly connected, and that nothing was in danger of shaking loose or dropping liquid on the tires. Jimmy shut down the engine. The staff downloaded the various computer files that had monitored and recorded all the system functions.

"Any comfort problems, James?" asked his grandfather. He was busy making notes on a clipboard as the mechanics took various temperature readings manually, and compared them to the computer readouts.

"Nope, Papa. It feels very nice in here. Solid, but no lumps or bad pressure points. I can move my feet just the way I want. The brake travel is perfect. The throttle may still be a little short…I kinda feel like I want to push it through the bulkhead!"

"That won't bend on him, will it?" Arthur directed the question at Troy Rodgers, the lead chassis mechanic.

"No sir, but we'll give it one more turn. He won't want his ankle to stiffen up after 50 laps! A little more pedal travel, he'll be comfortable, he will." Rodger grinned at his fellow mechanic as he lifted off a piece of the front bodywork. "Got that special pedal spanner there, Franz?" The others in the room looked at one another. Weiss looked at Rodgers. "Think we lost that one in Monaco last year, eh? The lad may just have to keep it the way it is!" As they realized the mechanics were pulling their legs, the other team members broke up. Then it was time to get to work.

"James, what I would like you to do is just run ten or fifteen laps at more or less a break in pace," Arthur said. "Dr. Huffman and I just want to make sure everything is put together correctly, and that nothing is going to fall off. If you can get your lap times down to around 1:20 or so by the end of this run, that will be plenty quick enough for starters. Make sure you and Hedwig are on the same circuits, my boy."

"Just go straight out the back gate and turn left onto Chapel," Huffman said. "Warm her up a bit through Stowe and Club, and then make sure you and Hedwig get her set properly for Abbey, Priory and Woodcote. Now listen! There is absolutely no sense in worrying about getting set up for Copse yet. We have no intention of trying to get you into the 16s today!"

In the early Twenty-first Century, the lap record at Silverstone was around 1 minute seventeen seconds. The various sanctioning bodies that controlled auto racing felt that was plenty quick enough, so over the years, many rules had been made and modified to make it more difficult to go faster. By 2026, it would take a lap at about one minute fifteen seconds flat to qualify on pole position for a Formula One race at the track.

Jimmy's approach to shaking down a car had not changed much since he started in the sport. He intended to tackle the circuit one corner at a time, trying to find the best line and ultimate traction limits through that turn. He had raced at Silverstone many times in the minor leagues, but expected the track to seem different at higher speeds and with aerodynamics that practically sucked the car down onto the ground.

After establishing the line through each corner, he would work on combinations of turns where some compromise might be necessary to minimize time through that track segment. Finally, when he and the crew were satisfied with the safety and performance of the car for that day, he would run a few laps trying to put all the corners together into a good lap time. During that phase of the test, he would try to establish his driving rhythm.

Race driving is different from driving on the street in many ways, but one of the most important is the establishment of rhythm. Driving on a closed course means the driver will see the same turns as many times as there are laps. He will repeat the actions of braking, turning, shifting gears, and pushing on the throttle over and over, trying to find the exact right braking point, turn-in point and exit point to get the greatest possible speed through the turn, and to maximize exit speed.

Racing is never as much about speed as it is about time. The object is to spend the least possible time on the lap, and it is often possible to do that without having the fastest car on the straights. For example, a car that can reach 300 kilometers per hour within 100 meters of exiting a corner might spend less time on the next straight than a car that can reach 320 kph, but takes the entire straight to reach that speed.

It used to be thought that the ideal gearing for a car would cause it to constantly accelerate along a straight. However, in practice, it became apparent that it was much more important to gear a car to reach its top speed as quickly as possible.

It also is important to carry the speed off the straight and into each turn as long as possible. Race drivers used to be taught to do their braking in a straight line, trying to reduce speed to the maximum that could be safely carried through a turn. Then the driver was supposed to keep "even throttle" through the corner, and apply throttle at the exit point. Engineers and computers proved that wasn't the quick way, however.

Modern drivers "trail" the brakes into a turn, and ease the throttle back to full as they exit. What that means is that they hold off braking much later; they then apply the brakes very hard and gradually release the pressure. The idea is that as the car slows down, the maximum side loading it can take before losing traction increases. This is known as the "circle of traction", and it means the car can go faster at the start and exit of the turn than in the middle.

Instead of keeping "even throttle" through the turn, the driver wants to find a point where he can reapply the throttle before the car is going straight again. The sooner the driver can apply the throttle, and the more throttle he can apply, the sooner the car will reach maximum speed on the straight. The sooner the car reaches maximum speed, then the more distance it will cover at maximum speed. The longer it runs at maximum speed, the less time it spends on the lap.

All of these actions…braking, releasing the brake, applying the throttle, shifting gears to maximize acceleration…become a rhythm to the driver. Once a rhythm is established for a track, then the driver can begin to work on cutting off tenths of seconds from his lap time by changing his braking and acceleration points. If he starts braking later, he carries more speed in; if he picks up the throttle sooner, he accelerates more quickly and reaches top speed earlier. But if he brakes too late or accelerates too soon, the tires may lose their grip…and the car spins off the track surface.

It is difficult to describe the mixed emotions of a race driver. Only those who have experienced trying to drive a car to the ultimate edge can really understand. The senses become more acute. The heart beats faster. He sees things more sharply. He hears small sounds. All of this contributes to the driver's ability to feel and control the car, and Jimmy was especially sensitive when taking the first laps in a new machine.

For one thing, he was placing his safety in the hands of his grandfather, Franz Weiss and Troy Rodgers. Jimmy simply had to trust that nothing important would fall off the car and cause a crash. It was expected that things would go wrong in testing, but nothing catastrophic. Although racing had become much safer over the years, there was never a guarantee with a new car. Jimmy had confidence in his crew; he relied on Hedwig to warn him if anything was near the failure point.

Turning left out of the skip pad behind the factory led immediately into the Maggots-Becketts complex. Once everything was sorted, this group of turns would be taken at nearly top speed (flat out, the racers say), but for today, the object was to make sure the car was safe, and diagnose mechanical issues.

After Becketts comes the Hanger Straight and Stowe. Jimmy quickly ran the car up through the gears, checking in with Hedwig to see if she detected any problems. Her only concern was the need for some break-in time on the gears. To make sure the brakes were working completely, Jimmy gave the car another blast down Vale and stood hard on the pedal into the first part of Club Corner, so named because the headquarters of the British Race Drivers Association is nearby.

From there, Jimmy was able to execute a series of acceleration and braking tests through Abbey, Bridge, Priory, Luffield and Woodcote. The last of these, Woodcote, is the most important corner on the circuit. It leads onto the pit straight, but more important, in a modern Grand Prix car, the next corner, Copse, can be taken flat out. Thus, it is possible to go all the way from Woodcote to Becketts without lifting, and if the car was really perfect, through Becketts without braking. In other words, nearly two-thirds of the lap could be taken at nearly top speed in a well-sorted machine.

After five laps during which Jimmy tried a number of things to warm up the systems and allow Hedwig to check them, he ran two laps off at about seventy-five percent effort. During these laps, he made some effort to learn the line through Abby, Bridge and Priory, but took all the other corners more judiciously. As he had suspected, the increased downforce provided by Formula One aerodynamics changed the line some from the one he had used in an underpowered Formula Ford. As soon as he felt he had that combination down, he brought the car in behind the gravel trap at Becketts and stopped on the skid pad.

Dr. Huffman immediately plugged his computer into Hedwig's system and began to download data. In the meantime, Hedwig was telling Jimmy through the helmet sensors where he could improve the line he was trying to learn.

"Bridge is daunting, Jimmy," she was saying to him. "As you drop down the dip under the bridge, the apex is blind. Trust me that you can carry on another hundred meters before brakes and turn-in. Also, don't be afraid of the curbs at Abbey…we are built to withstand that stress. You are perfect through Priory, and I think we can do Luffield next time."

"Hedwig, can you give me countdowns when I approach a turn?"

"Sure, Jimmy. What are you looking for? Oh, wait half a second…Dr. Huffman is asking me for something."

"OK, that's done. Where would you like a countdown, Jimmy?

Jimmy marveled at the ability of the artificial intelligence to interact with the crew and him. "As you noted, Bridge is difficult. It's completely different from the Formula Ford, because it was flat out in that car. Please count me down to the brake and turn-in point. And please remember to allow for my reaction time!"

"Of course," she replied. "As we work together, I am building a data base of your reaction times and skills. The more time we spend together, the more I will be able to fine tune this to your physiology, and help you." Allowing for a reaction time in a racing car if vital as the driver approaches the razor edge of traction. No matter how quickly the senses gather information and transmit it, there will be a slight lag between the thought "brake now!" and execution of the movement. The greatest drivers are those who can minimize reaction time because they can get closer to the limits.

"We didn't find anything loose at all, Jimmy," said Arthur Weasley through his headset.

"Excellent!" added Huffman, grinning from ear to ear. "Not even a minor leak. Hedwig, you did an exceptional job of pre-checking this morning." Of course, he didn't mention the fact that Rodgers and Weiss had done an excellent job of installing all the parts; to Huffman, all that mattered was the artificial intelligence.

Jimmy could almost feel her blushing. "Thank you, Doctor," she replied politely. Then she acknowledged the mechanics, although she shut down Huffman's head set so he did not hear her. "Jimmy is also extremely easy to read," she said, coming quickly back on for Huffman. "He is a natural at this, and his baseline is already well established." Jimmy supposed this meant she could read a number of physical indications and interpret what he was feeling, as well as understand his thoughts. Since interfacing with the artificial intelligence had been his main concern in making the jump up to Formula One, he immediately was more relaxed in the car.

"Too bad I can't hook you up to my girlfriend, Hedwig!" Jimmy said as he thought about how difficult it sometimes was to get Linda to understand him. "We're going to be good together, aren't we Hedwig?" Jimmy thought.

"Yes, Jimmy. We are." He felt her confidence, more than heard her answer.

"All right then, James. As we discussed before, let's try to get in fifteen or twenty laps at about 90 percent," Huffman said. "See if you can learn the best lines from Stowe through Luffield, but please…do not attempt Woodcote, Copse or Becketts yet. If anything is going to break, let's have it let go at closer to 180 kph than 320! Whenever you're ready, Arthur."

"Yes sir," Jimmy replied, and his grandfather gave him the signal to re-fire the engine. Now, Jimmy had a great deal more confidence in the car and in Hedwig. As they clicked off the laps, she coached him through Bridge, and also Club where he had some trouble with throttle pickup in the decreasing radius turn. After ten laps, Jimmy felt confident he had the best line for the current car setup through the series of corners, and spent another five laps putting the sequence together in a rhythm.

Hedwig was constantly collecting data. Through her sensors, she could feel the tire grip, the "g" forces and side loading, the amount of downforce being generated, the balance points, and the suspension working to keep the tires flat against the road. She made the adjustments she could now, and stored the suggestions she would give to the crew after the test.

With fifteen laps completed, Jimmy decided "fast" wasn't "fast enough" and put some of his newly learned knowledge to the test, picking up the pace. Basically, this meant learning a decently fast line through Woodcote and seeing how close to flat he could get in Copse. What he really wanted to do was lay down a baseline for Hedwig to compare the high downforce settings in the section they had just learned to the low downforce settings they would need to be quick.

With each lap, Jimmy concentrated more on trying to get a better exit speed from Woodcote onto the pit straight. He was still lifting in Copse, however, and touching the brakes for Becketts, not wanting to trust a new car through the fastest and most stressful corners. As he completed a fifth lap, he heard his grandfather ask him to pit in two, meaning one more fast lap and then pull off.

Feeling really good about the way the car felt and the information Hedwig was giving him, Jimmy took an aggressive line through Woodcote and barely breathed the engine in Copse. Just as he started to curve to the left at Chapel, Hedwig suddenly was warning him of a low pressure in the right rear tire. Before he could do anything, however, he felt the right rear collapse, and the rear of the car snapped out from behind him.

He felt and saw all of it in slow motion. Time seemed to stand still. He heard his tires screech on asphalt, heard and felt the air rush by in the silence with the engine off, heard the gravel rattle against the chassis and bodywork.

"Wheel broke, Jimmy," she told him, as he tried to turn into the lurid slide. Now he felt the tire fold under the suspension and tilt the car up. Hedwig locked the brakes for him and shut down the engine. Just as he thought air would surely get under the car and flip him, he was amazed to see Hedwig fold the front wing back along the side, and the rear wing forward, forcing the side of the car back down. The car slid across the grass through the middle of Becketts, then across the road, and finally stopped in the gravel trap at the exit of the corner.

"Jimmy! I told you to bring it in on the NEXT lap!" Arthur exclaimed in his ear, laughing like a maniac.


	7. Chapter 7, The Real Team Owner

CHAPTER SIX: THE REAL TEAM OWNER

"Geeze, that was exciting!" Jimmy Potter exclaimed after all the noise stopped and his heart rate returned to normal. He could hear his grandfather chuckling like a maniac through his earpiece. Hey, Poppa, I heard you! It's Hedwig you needed to tell!"

"Hedwig? Are you there? Are you OK?" Both Jimmy and Dr. Huffman, the computer engineer, inquired at virtually the same moment.

"I am running diagnostics," the artificial intelligence system replied.

Hedwig could feel the broken wheel, not in the way a person would sense pain, but certainly in the way an organic brain would sense something wrong. She also could feel several broken suspension components that had been damaged as the wheel and tire failed, and a number of aerodynamic parts that had been broken, cracked or scraped as the car slid through the grass and gravel. She was making and storing an inventory of repairs that would be needed before she would permit the engine to start again.

"I will need to be towed," she reported mechanically to the crew.

Hearing her preliminary report, Jimmy began unbuckling from the seat and removing some of the electrical hookups. He also released and removed the steering wheel, which made it much easier for him to climb out of the cockpit. By now, the crew was beginning to arrive from their private entrance to the Silverstone Circuit, which was located only a half-kilometer away from Becketts.

"Are you OK, lad?" asked Arthur Weasley, quickly tossing an arm around his grandson's shoulders.

"Oh sure, Poppa. Not the first spin, not the last. Probably not the last time a part breaks, either! But I sure would appreciate more warning than her telling me while we are halfway to going backwards down the track!" he added with a wide grin.

"I'm sure she let you know as soon as she knew," said Huffman, turning his attention briefly from the artificial intelligence to the driver. "She would not have been able to sense any loss in air pressure until the wheel actually broke. She can diagnose fatigue and warn about potential failures, but there is no way to predict catastrophic failures unless she can actually see a flaw in a casting."

"She says there was no such clue here. One moment you were all rolling perfectly safely down the road; the next moment the rim separated from the center, causing it to crack and virtually disintegrate. She was telling you AS it happened, and it doesn't get faster than that," the engineer said defensively.

"Hey! No problem," Jimmy said, putting up his hands apologetically. " I understand…I've got no complaints. She got those wings out, slowed us down, kept us from flipping over like a champ. In fact, she was bloody brilliant."

"Truth be told, I'm glad it happened that way. You've got no idea how much more confidence I have in Hedwig now. We were not only working great together on the track, sorting out the quick laps, but now I've got a ton of confidence that she will do all she can to keep me safer. It doesn't get much better for a driver, Doc."

"Any ideas what happened?" Arthur asked of the lead mechanics, Troy Rodgers and Franz Weiss.

"Not fer sure yet, mate," Rodgers replied, helping a couple of the other mechanics lift the back of the car and pull the damaged wheel assembly out. "It's pretty badly scraped up from being dragged along, ya know. Probably have ta put it through the X-ray process and all. Can't see anythin' yet just by lookin'," he added.

"Too bad it happened right then, though," Arthur said. "If we'd just got that last lap in, we'd have changed all four wheels and got in more running today."

"It's really not that bad, mate," said Weiss, pointing to the damaged right rear. "We'll just haul her back in, change out this whole corner of the car while you guys have your lunch, and we should be back on track around two, if that's OK with you."

"Yes, I think that will do nicely," Huffman said, taking over as usual. "I will want to download all the sensor information, too, and make sure Hedwig had no fuel pickup problems at the end of the run. Why don't you boys run along back to the shop on the green golf cart, let Don know the status, get a bite to eat, and all that. Let the boys and me get her put back together for you, and we'll try to get in 100 or so laps this afternoon to get a starting baseline time."

"Sounds like a plan," said Jimmy, jumping onto the golf cart behind the wheel, and waiting for his grandfather to climb in beside him. Arthur came up beside him, and pushed him over to the passenger seat.

"I've seen how you drive, boy!" laughed Arthur, climbing behind the wheel.

"What do you think, Poppa? Are you able to work with these guys?" Jimmy asked the only man who had ever before been his crew chief. "They kind of dismissed us from the cleanup process there…are you OK with that?"

"Yes and no," said Arthur. "I think they told us everything I would expect them to say, and they are on top of what happened. As much as they can be, that is. As for who is in charge, however; that is an interesting question. I've been around here a bit more than you, my boy, and I'm beginning to wonder who really is in charge.

"Nickels spends very little time around the shop. Stops in every day for a minute or two, but really doesn't seem to be checking up on what's happening back there. I suppose that makes sense, though. He's the organizer and the money man, not really a technical whiz I gather. And by the way, for some reason, I think there's someone behind him, too. Someone we haven't yet met who really pulls the strings, if you know what I mean."

"We also never see the chief designer. Dowe apparently sticks in his office, does his work, and communicates everything back and forth with Huffman or directly through his own computer interfaces. I'm not sure I would recognize Dowe again if he showed up in the pits."

"And you're right. Huffman takes things over. He's one of those top level employees who thinks he's the boss because, in his mind, what he does is indispensable and he's irreplaceable."

"But, can I work with them? Yes. No question. Because Rodgers and Weiss are true pros. They know what they are doing. We are on the same wavelength. Notice that I left them to deal with this repair. I trust them implicitly, and the three of us had already discussed the process long before the accident occurred."

"I do think, however, it will be interesting to find out exactly what went wrong with that wheel," Arthur went on. He was silent for a long time, organizing his thoughts and finding exactly the right way to express his concerns. "We outsource many parts, including wheels and tyres, because they are more or less generic to the formula. To have a rim fail in that way is disturbing, because it makes you wonder if there is a manufacturing defect. And if there is a defect, are there more wheels out there, not just in our inventory, but also with other teams, with this same risk?"

"Fortunately, you and I have an advantage…not exclusive, mind you, but an advantage nonetheless. We are not reliant on technology. We have magic. So, before you get back into the car this afternoon, I'll be running the wand scan I've always performed on your cars. And after all the laps are run this afternoon, I'll do it again. And then, before we leave tonight, one more time on the critical parts inventory."

"No reason to take any chances on Muggle technology when we don't have to, eh lad!" Arthur Weasley patted his grandson fondly on the back, and gave him a knowing smile.

The afternoon test session passed without incident. Jimmy ran off thirty laps as he and Hedwig again worked on optimizing the car for each corner. Then he pulled off into the parking area behind the factory, and while the mechanics once again went over the car for any possible leaks or loosened fasteners, and while Hedwig downloaded data for Dr. Huffman, Arthur Weasley again wand-scanned the car.

"Everything is great, Jimmy," Arthur said. "Ready for some hot-lapping? Let's lay down a few and show them what we can do!"

"We're all set, James. Give me as many laps as you want, get down as low as you think you can go safely to give us a testing baseline," Huffman added as Jimmy fired up the Formula One car one more time.

"Ready, Hedwig! Clear those circuits. Let's get it on and find ourselves something to work with," Jimmy said with a giant grin as he popped the car into gear, exited the driveway onto the circuit, and began warming up the tyres. Generally, with no other cars on the track, Jimmy would weave the car back and forth, then use short bursts of speed, especially around corners, to put heat in the rubber and the brakes. Racing tyres are designed to run hotter than road tyres, and won't grip properly unless warmed up. Brakes had to be heated for the same reason. Two or three laps should do the trick.

"Are temperatures up to nominal?" he thought to Hedwig.

"Yes, Jimmy," she replied, and he could almost feel her running through a number of other system checks, scanning for anything unusual or wrong. He immediately fell back into the rhythm he had established in the first thirty laps.

Now he was grinning widely. If outside observers could have seen through the darkly shaded visor of his helmet, they would see straight white teeth below a perfectly straight nose. Above, a pair of unblinking hazel eyes, wide and focused with excitement, concentrated on the road ahead, moving left to right from apex to apex.

His brother, Albus, had gotten most of his looks from their father…black, messy hair, green eyes, a need for glasses. James had dark hair, but when you looked closely, it was deeply tinted with red and bronze. His eyes came more from his mother, with Harry contributing just a few green flecks in the blue-grey-gold mixture, and he was from the taller side of the Weasley family, like his uncle Ron.

He moved his hands on the steering wheel with economical precision, the less movement the better. After the first few laps, as the adrenalin rush became more controlled, he always noticed how tightly he gripped the wheel, and he began to relax and steady his own heartbeat. He had his left leg tightly braced against the dead pedal, and was pushing back hard into the seat at first, but as he relaxed and his rhythm steadied, he allowed the seat and the belts to do the job of holding him against the remarkable forces that wanted to push his body around inside the car.

His fingers flicked the paddle-shifter levers that changed the gears on a racing car; flick, flick, flick on the right paddle to go up through the gears; flick, flick, flick on the left to downshift. The car needed its lower gears to accelerate as quickly as possible, keeping the engine at its torque peak as the tyres dug into the track and tried to resist the twisting action of the engine. It needed its higher, longer gears to maintain high engine revolutions and horsepower near maximum speed, overcoming the aerodynamic resistance that grew as the car pushed its way ever faster through the air.

The process of going as fast as possible through a corner involved a complex series of actions, depending a bit on whether it was a fast or slow turn. For a slow turn, Jimmy had identified a braking point, usually an unmovable reference object on or near the track that he was certain would always be there lap after lap. Just before this point, he would flip his left foot from the dead pedal to the brake and press hard, lifting his right foot from the accelerator pedal, and flicking down through the gears to the ratio he wanted to be in when he got back on the throttle.

As the car decelerated, he could gently release brake pressure; as the car slowed, he did not need to brake as hard. His eyes had located the apex, or "touch point" on the inside of the corner. In general, the wider the driver can make the arc through the turn from the outside of the road to the inside, then back outside again, the faster the car can negotiate the corner. In practice, there were usually three lines through every corner, using either a "classic" line where the apex was the exact middle of the turn, or an "early" or "late" apex…touching the inside before or after the exact middle. Which was quickest varied with how much speed the driver could carry into the corner, or how much control he needed on exit.

For Jimmy, the rush came in pushing the limits. Beyond a certain point, the tyres would lose their grip, and the car would go flying off the road, just as it had in the morning after the wheel broke. The challenge and fun of driving fast came in trying to move the braking point closer to the corner, or find a faster line on the knife's edge of adhesion. At the edge, the feeling was like that of the first taste of great meal or sip of the finest wine, an explosion of pleasant sensations generated by the pleasure in mastering the challenge.

He used his eyes to guide the car more than his hands. At the turning point, he was looking at the apex; at the apex, his eyes were on the exit point; at the exit, he was looking ahead to the next turn, concentrating on finding the next braking point. The car followed where he looked almost naturally because his hands subconsciously guided it to the places where he had fixed with his gaze. His body felt the forces of gravity, g-forces, as they slowed, accelerated and turned. His response to those feelings told him if it was too fast, too slow, to lift, to correct the steering, to get back on the throttle. The very best moments came as the car felt like it was just about to slide out from under him, but he caught it and kept it on course.

And then there were the emotions to control. The excitement of feeling the air rush around him in the open car, barely aware of the guard rails, banks and fences off to the side of the roadway—just blurs in his peripheral vision. While it was thrilling to go as fast as he could, it was never fast enough. He never felt fear or anxiety unless and until something went wrong. Then the world slowed down, his heart sped up, and the adrenalin rush might get so strong that it seemed like it might be a week before his heart rate would go back to normal.

Jimmy Potter was a smart guy. If he thought he would be killed or maimed, he would never be stupid enough to get in a racing car. However, he knew it could happen. Heck, it had happened many times before, and once or twice, to people he knew. But Jimmy was also a confident man, perhaps even a bit arrogant, and highly competitive. He believed it was very unlikely he would ever make a mistake that would get him in trouble. He was confident that Hedwig was in control of the mechanical situation, as she had been in the morning. He simply thought he had nothing to fear, and he was willing to drive as thought nothing could go wrong in order to compete at the highest level.

By the twenty-fifth lap of this test session, Jimmy was pushing the car hard, as close to the limit he and Hedwig had sorted out as possible. Eventually, after more testing and mechanical changes, they would be able to go even faster, but given the setup available on the virgin car, this was as quickly as they could go today.

A lap at Silverstone begins in front of the pits, which were located about one and a half kilometers up the track from the Phantom factory entrance. The pit straight is not particularly long, so short in fact that the start/finish line is near the Woodcote corner, and cars on the grid often start from Woodcote itself.

Woodcote is a wide, sweeping turn, which is taken flat out as the car continues to accelerate from the slower Luffield. Jimmy was through the first six gears by the starting line, and gave a final flick into seventh gear just past the opening in the middle of the pit boxes. This highest gear was essentially an overdrive whose main purpose was to keep the engine revs up in the power range.

Because the car could not be tuned to perfect today, Jimmy gave a quick lift just as he turned into Copse. This transferred the weight to the front wheels and gave a little more tyre grip at entry so that he car didn't push out too much towards the outside. As usual, Jimmy held his breath here and hoped the fronts would hold. There was a lot of paved runoff area to the outside, but a high curb and a wall to hit if something went wrong.

Back on the throttle and breathing again, he allowed the car to drift across the road towards the right, setting up for the Becketts "S" complex where they had the morning failure.

"Can I get just a hair more camber in Copse?" he asked Hedwig through his helmet interface.

"Sorry, Jimmy…nothing left to play with," came her reply.

Jimmy touched the brakes and flicked the left lever twice to downshift two gears for Becketts. When they had the car tuned perfectly, they would be able to thread the needle through these esses at over 305 kilometers per hour, about 190 miles per hour. Even more important, the Chapel exit section leads onto the longest straight, so maximizing exit speed was the most important thing.

By going down two gears, which he probably would not need to do once the car was sorted, Jimmy could make sure he accelerated as quick as possible, and he again flicked the right lever up to sixth gear, then as the RPMs reached 19,000, flicked into seventh again. Almost immediately, he allowed the car to float through a gentle left bend and fly towards Stowe. "Way better than a broom!" he thought.

Stowe is a decreasing radius right-hander. Said another way, the corner gets tighter towards the end than at the beginning. The quickest way is to carry speed through the early part, so Jimmy flicked down two gears and gently touched the brakes; then he went down one more gear to fourth, braked a bit harder, and aimed for a late apex.

He was back on the throttle and quickly up two gears, then right back on the brakes hard as he dropped all the way down to third gear for the double apex Club turn. He got a quick jump on the throttle out of the first apex, then back on the brakes for a touch, then back on the throttle before he got to the second apex, which unwound to the right as he roared away. "What a kick!" he thought to himself as his aunt's Voltron engine pushed him way back into his seat.

At one time, Jimmy would have gone from third to fourth to fifth and taken Abbey, the next turn, flat out as one of the fasted turns on the circuit. Unfortunately, as was the case with many of the old and challenging corners in auto racing, the cars had become too fast and the place too dangerous. Abbey is now a challenging left/right chicane after very hard braking and a full downshift to second gear. Jimmy liked to kick the back end out, shift up to third, and take the second part flat across the curbing so that he could get to flat in fifth gear at Bridge. He and Hedwig had worked a great deal on maximizing speed through here.

Then, he could touch sixth gear briefly, before more hard braking, and back to third gear for Priory Corner. This was followed by a the most technical section on the track, bursts of quick acceleration and upshifts, followed by hard brakes and downshifts through the Luffield Complex, then the hard acceleration and into sixth gear just before Woodcote…flat out and another lap begins! If Jimmy did everything right on a lap today, his time from start to finish would be slightly over one minute, sixteen seconds.

When he missed a braking point, a turn in point, an apex, or jumped on the accelerator too hard, then the car did the unexpected and Jimmy got to hold his breath again…another thrill. It always reminded him of the times in Quidditch matches when he had been forced to execute a dive towards the pitch to chase the Snitch.

But as he and Hedwig had settled in by now, the thrills were fewer and farther between. They were setting down a baseline of performance, recording how the car performed at each section of Silverstone. When they were done, they would be able to compare this actual performance to Dr. Huffman's theoretical simulations. They would be able to give Tony Dowe hard data the designer could use to create better parts to make the car quicker. And they would have information they could use to compare to Jimmy's next test, seeing exactly where any changes they made helped or hurt the lap times.

When the test was over, Jimmy pulled off at the factory entrance, and into the parking lot behind the shop.

"How do you like her, Jimmy?" asked Huffman, as Dowe made a rare appearance outside his drafting room.

"She's really very good for new," Jimmy said, "but she will need some front suspension revisions. Hedwig says we don't have enough adjustment left for Copse, and we'll never really be quick until I don't have to lift there."

"We expected that, Mate," Dowe said as Jimmy removed his helmet, breaking the connection between Hedwig and the engineers. "We designed it on the very conservative side to start. We'll give Hedwig a bit more to play with for the next time."

"I also want just a little shorter seventh gear, or a couple teeth more in sixth, whichever you think will get to top end quickest but keep the engine pulling. We're not quite in max revs in seventh," Jimmy added as the mechanics and his grandfather joined the debriefing group.

"Maybe it's not as much sixth as fifth," suggested Franz Weiss. "We gave you a fifth that would be flat at Bridge, and maybe we can use a little more there. We'll look at the data, but Hedwig has already suggested that."

"Another thing guys. Can you see about a little padding along the cockpit where my left thigh and knee are hitting?" Jimmy asked, and he twisted his left leg out to show them what he was talking about. "The right handers are fierce on this course, and when I've got my foot on the dead pedal, my leg kinda slams over against the edge in the rights." He started rubbing the area to show them, and leaned his head to the left to emphasize how much the forces were pushing on him in those corners.

"No problem, Mate," said Troy Rodgers. "We'll just duck tape a pillow in there so you can get a nap on Hanger Straight, OK?" he added with a big grin.

"What's going on in the twisty stuff, Jimmy?" asked Arthur Weasley as he looked up from the data flashing on Huffman's computer screen.

"I'm probably having a bit more fun that I should be," said Jimmy with a laugh. "We're sort of kicking her through the corners right now," and he started twisting his butt back and forth like a dancer doing the twist. "She wants to hang her ass out in second gear when I jump on the throttle. I've got to ease into it now, and I think we can be a tenth quicker with a longer second."

"Yes. Conservative setup, again, James. I think we wanted to make sure you had something to work with. We could have gone either way from this second gear choice, so we'll try longer next test and see if you like it better," Huffman said.

"So, that's it for today, gents," said Arthur.

"Excellent job, James!" exclaimed Huffman. "I think we've got way more to work with than we expected, even with that wheel problem."

"Yes, minor setback. Nothing really lost at all," said Dowe. "By the way, Nickels said to tell you that he's already called the wheel factory, and we're going to send the whole batch back to them to be on the safe side. They can get us enough new ones by next week that it won't hold us up."

"Great news," said Arthur.

"OK, Jimmy, why don't you go ahead and start getting cleaned up," Huffman said.

By now it was late afternoon on a mid-winter day, a bit chilly, and the wind was starting to pick up. Jimmy put his helmet on the seat of the car as usual, and walked back towards the shop. The mechanics began pushing the car back inside, as Arthur and the engineers continued discussing their impressions of the test.

Jimmy decided to first use the gym in the factory for his daily workout. He always preferred to work out after a drive, when he was already a bit used up from the effort. He felt this improved his stamina, and it was efficient since he was going to need a shower anyway. After his usual thirty-minute routine, he fired up the hot water, and filled the dressing room with steam.

"I thought you did very well today, James." Jimmy froze. The voice was deep and resonate, but it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"Who's there?"

"Ahh. That will be a question you will ask many times in our relationship," said the mystery man. "Let's just say that I am real owner of Phantom Racing."

"What? Don Nickels is the owner of Phantom Racing."

"Well, not entirely. But that is what we like the rest of the world to think," said the voice. Jimmy began to think that he could make a cloaked form just beyond the mist being thrown up by the hot water. "Don and I have been together many years. I have supplied the money and the ideas. He has supplied the organizational ability, the necessary secrecy, and the willingness to work with someone who must remain hidden behind the scenes."

"So, you would like to be a World Champion?"

"I suppose everyone who gets involved with auto racing pictures themselves as World Champion one day," Jimmy responded. He had become a bit more comfortable standing naked in a shower, having a conversation with a shadowy figure who he could now see was dressed in black, a cape flowing off his shoulders all the way to the floor. "Why do you have to stay behind the scenes?"

"Not everyone has the wherewithal to get there, though," said the shadowy figure, turning away and moving towards the door. It stopped, and turned back towards Jimmy. "If you really want it, I will provide it. But please make sure you mind your own business and concentrate on the driving. Leave the other mysteries of Phantom Racing alone, and we will guide you to the top. Look too deeply, and none of us will achieve what we want."

"I want you to know something. That is why I stopped by. The wheel failure today was no accident. And you yourself put the finger on why it happened when you said it gave you more confidence in your AI system. Huffman fully intended for that to occur so you would learn what the AI could do. You must be careful. It will probably happen again, but you can have confidence that I am also looking after you."

Jimmy thought he saw a flash of bright white on the face of the mystery man as he opened the locker room door and disappeared. He turned off the water and let the steam dissipate for several minutes. He had been given a great deal to think about today. Then he dressed and met his grandfather for the ride back home.


End file.
